


my heart (is like a haunted house)

by moonflowery



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Implied/Referenced Suicide, expect a lot of dramatic hand holding, in this haunted house we resent men and the church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowery/pseuds/moonflowery
Summary: My heart is like a haunted houseThere's things in there that scratch aboutThey make their music in the nightAnd in the day they give me such a frightAndy, troubled past and full of skepticism, finds herself with an odd job in an old, abandoned, English building. She doesn't believe in ghosts, she doesn't believe in herself anymore, and she's never had a reason to believe in love. And then... there's Quynh.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache the Scythian/Quynh | Noriko
Comments: 146
Kudos: 35
Collections: The Old Guard Big Bang





	1. First Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my story for The Old Guard Big Bang 2020!
> 
> Andromaquynh Ghost AU!
> 
> Please check the [incredible edit](https://www.aimmyarrowshigh.com/post/641785427644301312) made my @aimmyarrowshigh on tumblr!
> 
> Title from the song Haunted House by florence and the machine
> 
> Plot inspired by [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285653) (thank you!)
> 
> yes, I study history. no, I didn't make any effort to bring historical accuracy here. please remember its all Fiction

Andy got down from the car and slammed the passenger door behind her. She flinched at her own anger bursting out of her at random times without so much as her own authorization. Then she remembered who was coming out of the other side of the car and, well, her anger was justified, really. All her luggage consisted of a single backpack with enough changes of clothes, all the little annoying things one needs to be a normal person in the world, a few additional belongings, and a small handful of memories in the shape of random trinkets she always carried with her.

A few seconds later, James Copley stepped beside her, not too close though, not meeting her eyes. Instead, they were both staring at the old, old building in front of them. It was a strange sight. Andy had only skimmed through the pages detailing the history of the place. Maybe it started as a castle, maybe a church. At some point, it was a prison, and centuries later tried to be a theater, or something. She didn’t care. Andy was there to serve as a strange sort of guard, a custodian, looking over the place and over the team of historians that would arrive to study the place in hopes of turning it into a museum soon. Well, if she were to be completely honest, she was there just to _escape_.

“Thanks for finding me this job, Copley,” she told the man without sparing him a glance. There was no trace of gratefulness in her tone.

“Um, yes, of course. The place… As I said, there’s a functional bathroom and a kitchen, there’s electricity though it’s likely to fail, but there’s a supply closet that has everything you might need in an emergency. The nearest town is about an hour away, but the team of historians will come three times a week. You can ask them for anything you might need or-”

“ _I got it_ , Copley. I read your fucking instructions,” she finally turned to look at him. She looked taller, and she still carried herself always ready to walk into a deadly mission. She was all dressed in black, and the dark sunglasses did little to hide the frown she was sending his way. “Make sure the place doesn’t crumble down. Make sure whoever comes here doesn’t steal anything. I think I’ll manage,” Andy finished by extending her arm, silently asking for the keys to the place.

The ex-CIA agent sighed gravely. He used to be powerful, important, he remembered that. He had held enough power to slip in and out of the CIA, to play with groups of mercenaries, special forces, and anything in between as if the world’s best agents were nothing but chess pieces. It had all blown up in his face. Still, back then, when they were both at the top of their game, she’d admired and respected Andy more than most people he’d met in his life. Now, now that they both had lost almost everything. Now that he had disappointed and betrayed her. Now that Andy was so broken and hopeless that no new mission or new team could convince her to go back out to work, and she could only take this simple, meaningless job in the middle of nowhere to hopefully let her wounds heal… he admired and respected her more than ever. He also cared about her. But he unavoidably also feared her.

“Good luck,” he said as a way of goodbye.

She let him walk away, walk all the way around the car and she waited until he had his hand on the handle of the car’s door to speak up again. “Copley,” she called his name and turned around to look at him one last time. “You do know that this is your fault, right? I lost my team and almost died because you let it happen. _You_ encouraged him on a suicide mission… and now all of them are _dead_ , and they’re not coming back.”

There was a pause long enough for the words to leave a permanent scar. “Take care of yourself, Andy,” Copley said before driving away from the old English building by the shore. This time his only company for the trip was his regrets, his guilt, and his mistakes.

“Should have let me die along with them,” Andy mumbled, all alone, lightly kicking the ground with her boots. She turned around and walked toward the front doors of the building, her new home for the next four weeks.

* * *

First, Andy explored the place. It was so strange it almost interested her enough to read the file with its history. Almost.

The main building had to be a handful of centuries old, but it had gone through several additions, modifications, and losses over the years. There was a strange main entrance facing the road, still littered with furniture from the previous century, and some small rooms that could have been offices at one point or another. There was a great hall on one of the sides, where surely fancy balls took place back then, but that door was locked even to Andy. Upstairs it looked like actual people used to live on the building during its golden age. Under the dusty sheet covering the old furniture of the dozens of bedrooms, there were probably still traces of that glory. One of the last bedrooms, conveniently beside the functional bathroom and near the stairs, was the one prepared for Andy. Clean, bare, _safe_.

For the first day, Andy decided against exploring the attic, just as she only glanced at the chapel attached to the building, and didn’t even think of taking a look at the last grim limbs of the monstrous building, the ancient prison cells. Instead, she walked down the stairs and entertained herself enough in the small but useful kitchen.

With her stomach full and the sun starting to go down the horizon, the last thing Andy did before going to bed was checking out the supplies closet. It really was well equipped for emergencies and, apparently, it had been for way too long. Judging by the fact that it certainly had more candles than it had batteries for the few flashlights it offered.

As she rummaged through it, Andy profusely ignored the chill that at one point ran through her body. She was a trained soldier, an expert fighter, and that would be avoiding stronger words like a skilled assassin or mercenary. The point was that Andy was trained to hear enemies approaching her with almost uncanny precision. So, standing all alone in a locked and abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, why was she so certain that she had just heard footsteps behind her, someone breathing, hell, she could almost say she heard a heart _beating_.

Slamming closed the door of the closet, Andy cursed her often nightmarish profession, her lifetime of distressing experiences, and most of all her most recent trauma, loss, and guilt. Evil tricks her mind was playing on her. Nothing new. So she moved away, not even looking back at the locked doors toward the prison cells that were totally not trembling on their hinges. _Especially_ , she didn’t look at the door’s handle because, as she emphatically told herself, there was no way the thing was turning by itself.


	2. Nile

Early the next day, Andy didn’t mean to wait for the historians sitting on the steps that lead from the improvised parking lot of the place to the back door of the building. But, after a night of restless sleep at best, she was out of bed as soon as the sun came out. Breakfast and a tour around the place were over soon enough, and all Andy had left was to sit outside, stare at the infinite ocean in front of her, and wait.

Eventually, what Andy considered to be a ridiculously small car pulled up into the property, and from it came out a solitary young woman with a bright smile, curious eyes, and an energetic presence that was bound to look out of place in the decrepit old building.

“You’re the _team_ of historians?” Andy stood up to greet her.

“You’re the _team_ of security guards?” 

The woman’s confident and quick reply made Andy smile, and with unusual good nature on her part, she offered her hand, “Call me Andy.”

“Nile Freeman. Nice to meet you,” the young woman grinned, tugged on the strap of the bag she carried on her shoulder, and nodded toward the doors, “Let’s take a look at this haunted house of yours, yeah?”

* * *

Andy gave a quick, simple tour of the place to the young historian. Then she entertained herself by preparing coffee while Nile made a much more meticulous exploration of the building. Eventually, they met again, sitting at the kitchen table and, before Andy made up her mind about walking away and avoiding some human interaction she wasn’t very interested in, Nile spoke up.

“So, you’re just staying here by yourself? How long? I’d lose my mind being here all by myself.”

“Four weeks. And I’m sure I’ll manage,” Andy shrugged. She watched as the young woman nodded slowly, took a sip of coffee, tried not to wince at how bitter it was, and looked around a little helplessly. “What about you?” Andy cleared her throat, “What exactly are you doing here? Looks to me like it couldn’t be a less interesting place.”

“Quite the opposite,” Nile shook her head and smiled, “There’s actually a small battle going on over this property. Some people want to turn it into a hotel, others want to demolish it entirely, and I’m with the people that are fighting to open it as a museum.”

“Is it worth it?”

“Definitely! Look, I actually started out studying art history, but then, you know, just kept going with my studies. Sometimes, all kinds of history clash in a place, just like this one. _Someone_ has to unravel all the history this building has to offer. You can’t imagine the worth of the art, the furniture kept here, God, even just the architecture!”

“Monetary worth?” Andy raised a playful eyebrow, happy to earn a chuckle from her company. “So, you’ll be the hero to save this place from oblivion. Good for you kid.”

Hearing that, Nile couldn’t keep herself from pulling a grimace. “Not just me. It’s still a team thing,” she said. A just slightly bitter chuckle escaped her lips when the older woman looked around mockingly looking for her so-called team. “Okay, okay, I get what it looks like. A single woman doing all the work just so a couple of men can take most of the credit _and_ all the attention in the end. Trust me, I’ve been there before,” Nile stated, and made a pause as if trying to remember why exactly she was defending her situation, “But hey, there are some people taking care of the legal stuff and whatnot. That’s something. Then there’s my boss he… just prefers to focus on his own art, I guess. No one but me was up for the crazy challenge of putting a haunted house upside down looking for old artwork that could be worth building a museum around.”

Andy finished her stupidly bitter coffee and, with it, she swallowed down the impulse to tell this girl to send her boss and her team to hell and find something better for herself. Take a step back, don’t get involved, don’t _ever_ care again for people you can’t help, don’t care for anyone but yourself, Andy repeated like a mantra on her head.

“Why do you keep calling it a haunted house?” Andy asked, settling for what looked like a safer subject, “I mean, I get that the place is hideous but-”

“ _Wait_ ,” Nile almost jumped out of her chair, “You mean you haven’t heard the stories?” She pretty much gasped when Andy’s sole reply was an utterly confused frown. “How- Who _dared_ give you this job without warning you of the catch?! The damn building is haunted. I mean, honest to God haunted!” 

Andy laughed freely, “I’m sorry Nile, I really don’t believe in that bullshit.”

“No- Come on! At least let me tell you about it?” Nile leaned forward on her chair, “This is literally the most exciting part about being a historian.”

Again, Andy chuckled, a little more fondly this time, “Well then, go ahead. Humor me.” She leaned back on her chair, and listened intently. Against her better judgment, as the young woman went on with her stories, Andy’s proud grin slowly but surely vanished from her face.

“Witches,” Nile started confidently, “That’s how most people agree it started. There’s not a general consensus but it could go as far back as the 15th century. The chapel, the prison cells, and there used to be a dock right in front of this building. This is where the nearby towns sent the women accused of witchcraft to be unfairly judged and killed. I’ll spare you the details, but there was a little bit of everything through the years. Hanging, burned alive, thrown off a cliff, the infamous iron maidens thrown to the ocean… all the worst of it, right here in between these walls.”

“It lasted way longer than it should have and… Some people argue it never ended. Why do you think this building saw so many different purposes? Whatever people tried to turn it into, it failed. Official accounts vary, but the unofficial sources all have something in common. On every occasion, without fail, there’s a mention of a… haunting. All the classic stuff, hearing footsteps at night, objects moving by themselves, constant nightmares, dead plants and pets, and occasionally the rumors of a child being exorcised. You could laugh at some of it, sure. I just want you to think of hundreds of people, frightened out of their minds, fleeing this place, all through _five hundred years_. All of them swearing they saw them, the witches. Deadly women, angry women, mad women, looking battered and wild in their ragged dresses, they are furious, insane, and they want revenge.”

At the end of the story, Andy looked away from Nile and toward the window of the kitchen. She could watch the ocean from there. There was no doubt in her that those waters had swallowed dozens of good, brilliant women that didn’t ever deserve such a cruel and violent fate.

“Sorry,” Nile cleared her throat, “I get a little excited and-”

“No, it’s okay, really. You’re- I believe you, kid. At least, I believed about half of it,” Andy smiled sadly, “A tale of human cruelty, violence spurred by ignorance, trying to kill what you don’t understand… I know that story, I know it well.” Andy paused. It was one of those moments when she felt older than could be possible. Her job had taken her all around the globe, just to see the worst humanity had to offer. Nothing could surprise her anymore. “I don’t believe in ghosts though, I can’t,” she shook her head, “People don’t come back to life after death, Nile. That would be too good to be true.”


	3. Company

It was the second night, and Andy was convinced she was losing her mind. Insomnia was more familiar than not. This, however, wasn’t insomnia. This was the faint sensation of someone watching her lying in bed. This was the fourth time she had to walk down the stairs because she was convinced she heard the chairs in the kitchen being dragged across the floors, and the fourth time she couldn’t even be completely sure but only suspicious that they were all in slightly different places than she had left them. This was the sound of footsteps approaching her door and then fading away, the sounds of the ocean like a mad woman weeping for revenge. 

Eventually, closer to sunrise than sunset, Andy fell asleep. Mostly out of exhaustion. Tired of waiting for something to happen. Tired of expecting the worst. Tired of nearly wanting something incredible to come out of the shadows and catch her. She slept, finally, reassured by the knowledge that it would be impossible for any sort of attacker to catch her by surprise. Reassured, too, by the gun hiding under her pillow, and the knife on the bedside table’s drawer. A lifetime of experience. She never turned her back to the door of her room though.

* * *

The third day in the allegedly haunted, allegedly valuable, objectively somber English building, turned Andy a little restless. Nile Freeman, the young and charismatic historian, wouldn’t be visiting that day. It was just Andy. Andy and the silence, the empty rooms, the dust, the untold stories of the place. Done with her essential duties to the job, she went outside to relieve some of the pent up tension that always accompanied her by training for a while if only to pass the time. If nothing else, she figured at least she’d keep herself in shape. 

Looking back, Andy would tell herself that she should have expected that when she felt calm for the first time since arriving at the place she’d be seconds away from having her world turned upside down. She was almost done with her routine. She had decided to lock up the place and go on a run on the beach until her body could hardly go on anymore. It had been a success, she was returning to the building, almost there, already picturing a nice shower to end the day, when she saw it, when she saw  _ her _ . 

There was a shadow, undeniably human, unmistakably feminine, and so goddamned real that it got Andy running as fast as she could, clutching the gun that she was thankful for always bringing with her, and barging into the building ready to do the worst she could with the best of the abilities. The only problem was, she was completely alone.

Growing desperate with each passing second that she couldn’t take her anger on anyone else, Andy stomped throughout the entire building searching for the source of the shadow. She checked every room, every corner, and the lock of every door. She was completely alone and there wasn’t a trace of another body in there with her. Well, that wasn’t completely true. There were traces. All around her. Things had changed places, objects were tilted, wrinkled, facing the wrong way.

Defeated, Andy let herself fall on her bedroom’s floor, her back resting against the foot of her bed. She was convinced these traces were just a product of her tired and damaged mind. You watch the only people you care about die and that’s what you get, she told herself. A lie, of course. Her curse was caring too much, about everyone around her, everyone in need, everyone living on the same terrifyingly difficult planet Earth as her. The problem was, she had lost everyone that had ever cared about _her_. That was the real issue. That’s what got her, the only survivor of the event, lying on her hospital bed in recovery, doing whatever she could not to recover. That’s what got her incapable of accepting a new team, a new mission, and only taking the opportunity to run away and lock herself in this English set of ruins away from civilization.

Andy dragged her backpack over to her side and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. It was a worn-down black leather journal. Worn-down might have been an understatement though. The thing looked like it had gone through hell and back. It had been dropped in the desert, the pages stained by coffee, a little bit of vodka, and even some blood. It was a miracle there wasn’t any evidence of a bullet hole in it. However, Andy kept it for three reasons. One, although it was filled mostly with her own scribbled handwriting, switching languages like it was nothing, like she could make them up or bring them back from the dead to avoid anyone possibly understanding her, it also had a couple of pages with notes from the members of her team. Two, the last pages had everything related to that last mission. She believed that if she read it through enough dozens of times, if she stared at the very last page enough times, maybe she’d uncover a secret, maybe she’d finally see at exactly which point she had failed, she’d see what she’d failed to see back then, even if it couldn’t bring anyone back to life. 

The third and final reason for Andy to carry that old little book with her at all times, was the little polaroid picture glued to the first page of the journal. There she was, her entire team with her, her only friends, her best friend, and lastly, the new kid. They were about to leave for Sebastien’s first mission. He was standing to her right, one arm around her waist, the other holding a gun way too carelessly. Sometimes she wished that was the same gun he used to shoot her in the back, so she could have in one picture the best and worst of him, his most genuine smile, and his darkest intentions.

“It was meant to be you and me, Booker, now and always, you fucking fool,” she bitterly whispered while lightly tapping her finger against the picture.

As it often happened, Andy stayed right there on the floor, lost in her thoughts until exhaustion, once again, put her to sleep. 

* * *

Andy wished she could have said that she woke up in the evening just because she fell asleep in an absurdly uncomfortable position. That, of course, would have been a lie. She could tell herself all the lies she wanted, but she couldn’t fool her own body. Her body was trained as close to perfection as soldiers like her could be. It would be an offense to pretend she didn’t snap into wakefulness just as soon as she felt someone enter the room she was sleeping in.

When Andy opened her eyes, she only caught sight of what looked like the hem of a dress quickly moving away from her door. It was enough. Damn it was more than enough, she told herself as she jumped to her feet, holding her gun and running to the hallway. It had been seconds, barely. The hallway was long, all the doors were closed, and no footsteps could be heard. That didn’t stop Andy from running from one end to the other, looking, desperately searching. That dress belonged to a body and that body was going to drive her crazy.

Eventually, once again, she had to admit defeat. Andy stood in the middle of the hallway, eyes closed tightly, one hand gripping her gun, one hand against the wall, holding her up, keeping her from falling to her knees. There was the beginning, or maybe the end of a scream stuck in her throat. The real surprise was the realization that it wasn’t an angry yell at all. She didn’t want to demand an attacker to show themselves, not anymore. She didn’t even want to demand to be left alone. She was closer to asking for a confirmation of any kind that she hadn’t finally lost her mind, and if she has, maybe she was asking for help to put an end to it all. Truthfully though, she was mostly on the verge of begging for a little company. If nothing else, Andy just wished that if she were to open her eyes and turn around, the breathing that she was so sure she was hearing, would _at least_ try to kill her.


	4. Respect

“You look like shit.”

“You don’t have to look so smug about it, kid,” Andy groaned.

“Did you even sleep last night? Oh my God, please tell me that you saw-”

“I’m fine!” Andy barked, looking away from the young woman, “It was _nothing_.”

Nile tried to keep herself from shaking her head. She only took a deep breath and got comfortable on the bottom steps that lead to the back door of the building. This time, Andy had been waiting for her with coffee ready and as soon as the historian settled on the steps beside her, she had noticed the bags under the older woman’s eyes had worsened. She couldn’t keep herself from trying to help.

“Want to talk about it?” Nile said, focusing on the coffee cup in her hands to save herself from the possibility of a harsh rejection. She was met with silence. “You know, whatever it is, talking about it might help,” she risked a look at Andy, who was, surprisingly, smiling gently at her, “I’m a good listener,” Nile insisted and then, seeing Andy’s pointed look, she started laughing, “Okay, that was a bad example. But I meant what I said!”

Andy shook her head softly. She was still smiling a little though, she genuinely appreciated the good intentions of the girl that was basically a stranger to her, but she couldn’t help herself. “You’re too young,” she sighed.

“Yeah,” Nile agreed, “I learned my lessons too young. Eleven years old, to be exact. My dad was killed in action when I was eleven.”

“I’m sorry,” Andy said, hoping her tone could convey she was apologizing too, for assuming, for dismissing her experience without hearing it first. Nile barely acknowledged her.

“I could hardly bring myself to say his name in those first months. Couldn’t talk about him at all. But my mom, she’s a warrior, she didn’t let me back down. She said we should honor him, by remembering him, talking about him. And little did I know back then it was also a way for us to heal,” Nile finally looked at Andy, granted her a smile. She looked older beyond her years in a way that startled Andy with the familiarity to her own reflection as if through a fogged-up mirror. “Talking about it _helps_ ,” Nile finished.

This time, Andy nodded, accepting the words, even if she wouldn’t take the offer that came with them. “Thank you, Nile. I’ll keep it in mind,” Andy said, watching the younger woman stand up.

“Alright, well, I should get to work,” Nile grinned, “I believe there’s a really valuable trash can in one of the old bathrooms so, wish me luck!”

* * *

Usually, after Nile left, Andy was in a good mood. She had a good time and she appreciated the company of the young woman. Nile was good company while drinking coffee and during lunch, and she offered fun, interesting facts about the building. Because of her, Andy found out the old stuff kept in the bedrooms were the most valuable, but the history of the twentieth century’s offices could give the historians more power over the people looking to buy the property. There was more, something about a statue in the chapel and Nile considering kicking down the door to the locked hall of the building. However, Andy couldn’t focus on any of it that night.

That night had been the absolute worst one so far. Almost as soon as the sun had gone down, the noises started. It was as if the whole building had come alive. Andy finished her rounds around the place, locking all the doors and making sure everything was in place, just to have to turn back around and do it all over again. The door that led to the prison cells attached to the building had been making such awful noises Andy had pulled a chair against it, just to hear the chair tumble down to the ground ten minutes later.

When she made her way to bed, determined to ignore the windows of the entire place rattling despite the stillness of the night, the footsteps pattering up and down the hallways and the stairs, and just the beginning of hearing whispers all around her. Andy, of course, failed miserably on her mission to ignore it all. There was only so much patience left in her, and her temper had already been tested beyond her limits.

“Fuck. I’m too old for this shit. I only wanted to grieve in fucking peace and not even _that_ I get to have,” she mumbled to herself, tossing and turning in bed, punching her pillow until finally, she had enough.

Andy jumped up to her feet, gun in hand, and looked around her. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice even. “What do you fucking want?!” she yelled into the hallway after hearing yet another door slam closed. “What do you want?!” she demanded, again and again as she kicked open all doors around her.

Finally, it happened. Andy was breathing heavily, her hand holding her gun steadily, even though her rage was uncontrollable. She was in the middle of the hallway and finally, she caught a movement from the corner of her eye, someone standing by the door of her own room.

“What the fuck do you want?!” she screamed, shooting her gun and turning around.

The woman, who was completely unaffected by the bullet that just passed through her, crossed her arms over her chest. “A little respect, to begin with,” she said, and Andy, dropping her gun to the floor and almost falling to her knees herself, she knew at once that she would never forget that voice, that face, that first sight of her, “All I have ever wanted was just a little respect.”


	5. Quynh

After watching a woman disappear right in front of her eyes, just in the blink of an eye, Andy thought nobody could blame her for calmly picking up her gun, walking straight to her bedroom and collapsing on her bed, her mind a mess, and letting herself sleep until noon the next day.

Well, nine in the morning wasn’t exactly noon, but Andy couldn’t, for the life of her, remember when was the last time she woke up so late. Even worse, she stayed an extra hour in bed, trying to make sense of the previous night. A loud, old house, and her troubled mind playing tricks on her. That was it. That was all. _Right?_

Old buildings made creepy noises all the time, that was nothing to worry about, Andy could handle that and move on. The vision was a little more concerning, but still explainable, she guessed. The first days, even weeks, after the tragedy, she could have sworn she saw her best friend everywhere she went, never mind she had watched him die. Even the words she had heard.  _ A little respect _ . Who’s to say she hadn’t said them herself? After all, she could relate.

Usually, her mostly untainted career, a reputation that precedes her, and a mighty personality were enough to earn her respect wherever she went. Still, after everything, after more than once leading teams or single-handedly performing extraordinary missions that objectively had changed the world, she still had to remind people, time and time again, of her place, and her worth, and her power. She didn’t need the attention, far from it, but she wouldn’t tolerate the injustice of being dismissed.

So, asking for a little respect, that sounded familiar enough. If she worked hard enough she could fool herself into believing it had all been nothing but a dream. Well, as long as she ignored the bullet hole now adorning her bedroom’s door.

Andy’s mind had never felt as heavy as it did that day. She felt her thoughts were all tangled up and lost in a fog in her mind. She went about her routine in a daze. She didn’t want to think too hard about things she couldn’t understand, but she couldn’t stop thinking about them, and the result was nothing but a headache that made her curse with all her might the moment she’d thought this job was the perfect opportunity to try sobriety for a while. Frustrated with herself and somehow feeling lost in a building that was hers to protect, Andy decided to make a small change to hopefully distract herself. That fifth day, she explored the attic above the bedrooms.

The space was every bit as grim as she would have imagined. The perfect movie set for a scary film. All the dust, all the spider webs in the corners, all the strange little noises that, surprisingly reassuringly, were either rats or bats. So far, it looked like the young historian working at the place hadn’t touched that room either. Andy, distracted by a new environment, finally started to feel more at ease. She strolled around, taking a look at the old, cracked mirrors, the locked chests, the paintings covered by white sheets, kicking a chair here and there.

She was just about to leave when a small object, a little wooden box, spontaneously fell from a dresser. It was so absurdly unexplainable that it drained Andy of every last bit of curiosity, confusion, fear, concern, and self-preservation instinct. She turned back around swiftly and with a complete lack of hesitation on her part, she kicked the little box all the way over to the opposite end of the attic. There was a small moment of peace, right before a seemingly out of place cardboard box fell down from a chair where nothing could have possibly pushed it over.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Andy whispered. Then she turned around and took it upon herself to kick the chair over.

This time, when a drawer was pulled all the way out from a cabinet behind Andy, she found herself smiling. “Seriously? Fucking serious?” she turned around, kicked aside the fallen drawer, pulled another one out herself, and just threw it away without a care of where it landed. “Is that how it’s going to be?!” she demanded at the empty room, throwing her arms up and looking around. The answer came in the way of a painting falling down from its easel, taking the white sheet with it. “Great. Let’s do it then,” Andy whispered, tilting her head until her neck made an either satisfying or otherwise worrying noise.

The next few minutes possibly qualified as the strangest of Andy’s life. She threw a wooden stool to the wall, and a closet nearly fell on top of her. She turned over a table and an old vase flew in the direction of her head, but luckily for her instead crashed against the wall. There were broken mirrors, doors falling on her, a great diversity of small objects thrown at her from all corners.

Finally, more tired than she remembered being since her last mission, Andy fell to the ground. She was breathing heavily, her arms were aching and she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. That’s when the tallest shelf in the entire room was pushed over and almost crushed Andy underneath. She threw herself out of its way just in time. The sound of the crash was horrible, but she’d worry about that later. She just stayed there, lying on her back on the dusty floor of the completely trashed attic, and tried to catch her breath.

All things considered, Andy wasn’t all that surprised when a second later she not only confirmed she wasn’t alone, but got the privilege of staring at her company. Just a couple feet away from Andy, sitting on a chair that had been turned upside down a moment before, there was a woman. She was sitting gracefully, completely still, just staring at Andy. She had a long and torn white dress, and her black hair, messy as it was, looked impossibly soft. Her face was beautiful, that much was undeniable, and her features which could probably be qualified as soft and enchanting, were instead pulled into an expression that was perfectly cold and emotionless. Except for her eyes. Those gorgeous eyes, even under a frown, they couldn’t hide the natural gentleness of them, or the curiosity with which she was staring at Andy.

“Are we done?” Andy asked, not minding how badly her voice was shaking. She could blame it on her exhaustion.

“Are _you_ done with your tantrum?” the woman replied.

The playful tone took Andy by surprise. She had to look away and stare at the ceiling to reign in her instinctive response of throwing a harsh comeback at her. She had to remember she was talking to… _someone_ that probably wasn’t… _couldn’t_ be real. The reminder got her to snap her face to the side, relieved to find the women still sitting there, delicate and authoritative at once.

“The kid will be upset, you know?” Andy cleared her throat, “She’s been studying this place and we probably broke a lot of stuff just now.”

The other woman tilted her head slightly, taking her time processing Andy’s words before replying. “Ah, yes, the young woman. She will most definitely be upset with you.”

“You started it,” Andy replied, frowning just a little and pulling herself to a sitting position.

“I did not.”

Andy stared at her, “Yes,  _ you  _ started it,” she repeated.

“I did not. You did.”

The black-haired woman’s smile could drive Andy crazy right then and there. “You- You’ve been torturing me for days!” Andy exclaimed.

“You wanted it,” the woman replied with a bored sigh, leaning back against her chair.

“ _What?!_ ” Andy turned to face her more directly, “Why would I possibly want- What the fuck makes you say that?”

Again, the other woman took her time to answer. Her eyes never left Andy, and that purposeful, unwavering stare made the retired soldier shiver in entirely brand new ways. “I admit I enjoy the attention,” the woman finally replied and, for the first time, a hint of a teasing smile showed on her lips before she looked bored all over again, “But it usually takes me months, sometimes years for people to even notice I’m here. And it’s often just small children, the only ones paying enough attention. Sadly, they are not the most exciting conversationalists. Yet here you are. A boring, ill-tempered, adult woman in sad clothes. And look at us, just a few days and we are already talking like a couple of old friends. You see me.”

“I see you,” Andy said, the words coming out spontaneously, they felt much like a reassurance to both of them. She didn’t yet understand why she said it, or why she ignored the unkind description of herself she’d just received.

“You do. Nobody has ever seen me as easily as you see me,” that statement erased every trace of playfulness from the woman’s face. She turned thoughtful, the tips of her fingers tracing her bottom lip, and her eyes, for the first time since their conversation started, drifted away from Andy, to an uncertain distance. “There must be something about you. Something you want, or need, so deeply, so deeply…”

Andy was taken over by an unexpected feeling. She was gripped by a great fear that this strange woman would disappear again. She felt she would have done anything at that moment to keep her there. “What’s your name?” she blurted out, looking up hopefully at the dark-haired woman.

“My name is Quynh,” she replied, looking back at Andy with a small smile, as if merely indulging her, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, what is your name?”

“Andy,” she answered with a pleased smile. For an instant, she wished she could offer her hand out for a handshake, a little too curious for a chance to try and touch Quynh. She’d regret it for many long and terrible hours, but Andy closed her eyes when she added, “My name is Andromache, but you can call me Andy.” When she opened her eyes, she was dreadfully and absolutely alone.

For a moment, Andy considered calling out the name she heard, _Quynh_ , but she was afraid of what the consequence of saying it out loud for the first time might be.


	6. Cheers

“I need a drink.”

Nile straight-out laughed at the particular greeting she received from the older woman as soon as she stepped down from the car. Andy, as usual, was waiting for her by the steps that lead toward the back of the building, pacing the space in front of it. 

Maybe if Nile would have had more time to think it through, maybe if Andy wouldn’t have eagerly met her halfway through her path, maybe if Nile hadn’t had her car keys still dangling from her finger, and maybe if it hadn’t felt so easy to just hold them out to Andy and say “You have fun in town, I have a lot of work to do here.” _Maybe_ then Nile would have arrived on time to the realization that there was something off about Andy. She would have thought about the fact that if Andy hadn’t brought anything to drink during a three-month stay at an abandoned place, there was probably a good reason for it and, worse, there was probably a bad reason for Andy to desperately need a drink then. 

But, as it happened, by the time Nile looked at her clock and saw that it was entirely too early for a normally functioning person to drive an hour in a hurry to get a drink, Andy was already gone.

Andy took her time on her drive back to her workplace. She was lost in thought, and she had already opened one of three bottles of vodka currently on the passenger seat. The previous night had been so outstandingly calm and uneventful that she started to think maybe she had imagined the… _odd_ encounter she had experienced. This time though, she wasn’t hoping everything was in her imagination, she was fearing that was the case. Andy had no idea what she would do if she had to accept that she had wreaked havoc on the attic of the building and talked to herself like a madwoman, while sober. She hadn’t even checked the attic again since she walked out of it, scared to see the undeniable mess or maybe everything back in its place, unsure of which option would be worse. 

It wasn’t until Andy pulled up behind the building and saw a shockingly not unfamiliar face staring at her from one of the windows that she considered how bad of an idea it might have been to leave Nile alone in there.

Andy ran inside the building, ready to yell the name of the young woman until she found her hopefully safe and sound, but there was no need. Coming to a screeching halt in the rudimentary kitchen of the place, Andy was relieved to catch the historian in the middle of serving herself a glass of water.

“Oh, you’re… are you okay?” Andy blurted out.

At first, Nile looked nothing but amused. It was her first sight of Andy being something other than her usual cool and serious, bordering on intimidating self. Then it clicked that it was still before noon, Andy was holding three bottles of vodka, and she was already started on one.

“Andy… were you drinking?” she asked.

“Fuck…” Andy had the decency to look uncomfortable with the question.

“While driving?” Nile insisted on the obvious.

The older woman wasn’t meeting her eyes, she shifted from one foot to another and shrugged. “It’s fine, a small crash would hardly be the worst thing to-”

“In my car, Andy, _my_ car. Leaving me stranded here.”

Nile didn’t let her back down. Nile didn’t bend, didn’t offer pity, and didn’t let her walk away from her mistakes with self-deprecating nonchalance. Nile stood her ground and stared at her resolutely until Andy looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m sorry. Fuck, Nile, I’m really sorry.” Andy placed the bottles on the kitchen table and took a seat, feeling heavier but also more… real, than she had since arriving there. The silence stretched enough for Andy to admit she wouldn’t be able to get herself out of there alone. She looked up at Nile, who looked not very angry, not too curious, but just patient enough. “This was bad, I know. I just… I’ve been in a really bad place,” Andy confessed at last, “It’s been a while since I’ve made these sort of careless mistakes, but they’re the reason I came here. To, hopefully, somehow, get better, I guess. Take some time for myself, as everyone loves to say. But it’s not easy. In fact, it’s really fucking hard, you know?”

The younger woman nodded in understanding. She took a look at her empty glass, grabbed another for Andy, and sat down. While Andy poured a drink for each of them, Nile asked, as kindly as she naturally was, “What happened to you?”

Andy looked up again. Her mind was right on the edge of a decision. When her eyes drifted to a place beyond Nile’s shoulder, her heart skipped a beat. There, on the doorway, casually leaning against the doorframe, was Quynh. When Andy started talking, she didn’t have it in herself to stop.

“I was a soldier. I was a supposedly special kind of soldier. I worked on the special missions that movies sugarcoat all the time for an audience. I thought I was good at my job. I did everything right, by the book, no family to endanger, no home to miss, no weaknesses, and no rest. There was nothing to me but my job, and no one to me but my team. I wouldn’t say befriending them was a mistake, it was inevitable, but…”

Andy made a pause to refill her glass, maybe too quickly but there was no stopping her then.

“There was a stupidly dangerous mission, a few months ago. Everything went wrong, and one of our own betrayed us. It got everyone killed. I lost my entire team, and my only friends in the world. I was the only survivor. I don’t feel particularly thankful for that.”

Nile let enough silence settle in around them. She watched Andy refill her glass again, and she finished her first one, swallowing down her concern for the other woman and making an effort to find her own strength. “Do you want to tell me about them?” Nile tilted her head.

“Not really,” Andy shook her head, “I’m not ready. Or drunk enough.” She let out a bitter laugh, as she worked on her glass of vodka.

“I get that,” Nile smiled sadly. 

“Do  _ you  _ want to tell me about it?” Andy matched her smile. She wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating Nile again, if anything she was hoping the young woman’s story wasn’t anything like hers, she genuinely wished the best for Nile.

“I told you about my dad already, didn’t I? Well... When I was old enough, I joined the army because of him. I thought, somehow, it would bring me closer to him, to the memory of him, you know? It was a bit of an impulse, I didn’t think it through at the time beyond my emotions. The army… it’s not my greatest pride, I’ll tell you that. But there was… Afghanistan. I killed somebody while I was there. I still feel it. Sometimes I feel that it will haunt me forever… Anyway, I quit the army but I still carried that with me. It took a toll on me. Insomnia, nightmares, anxiety, you name it. Then… I started therapy. It hasn’t solved everything but… I’m sleeping at night.”

Andy thought that Nile’s smile was extraordinarily beautiful, and bright, and that alone could serve as proof of who she was, her strength, her journey as a person. It was, to say the least, inspiring.

“I don’t think therapy could fix me,” Andy blurted out. She frowned at her empty glass for taking away her ability to think before speaking, but then she chuckled when she saw genuine amusement creep back to the other woman’s face. “But thank you, Nile, for everything.”

“Anytime,” Nile smiled, pushing her glass away and getting ready to finish work for the day.

* * *

By the time Nile left, to say Andy was drunk would be an understatement. On the bright side, that was what she was trying to achieve. She figured that if she was being haunted or if she had lost her mind, regardless of which option was worse, it would be easier to face the reality of it while drunk. At least that way she could keep fooling herself into denial and insist that it was just a product of the vodka, not of her tortured mind, not of a supernatural origin.

Still, her intoxicated state messed up a little with Andy’s ability to make reasonable decisions. That’s why, with an almost empty bottle in her hand, Andy stumbled for the first time into the chapel of the building. A small church, a chapel, she couldn’t tell the difference. There were pews, mostly covered in white sheets, as well as a couple of statues here and there. There were broken windows, and the place wasn’t in the best shape. With not much grace in her movements, Andy pulled away one of the dusty white sheets covering the pews, and took a seat with a heavy sigh.

Everything was quiet for a few moments, but finally, Andy found the nerve to look around, searching. She was looking for her, but when her eyes finally found Quynh standing partially hidden behind a statue, Andy felt her heart skip a beat.

“Andromache,” the other woman greeted her with a whisper that made Andy tremble slightly.

Andy’s lips parted as she tried to find something to say. A last shred of conscience warned her that calling this unexplainable woman in front of her beautiful might not be the right thing to say at the moment. “Do you want to keep me company?” Andy said, at last, nodding to the row of pews right in front of her.

She watched Quynh smile and jump off the pedestal of the statue with so much grace that there was no doubt in Andy it was part of her nature, not a consequence of being… whatever she was.

“What are you doing?” Quynh asked, slowly walking closer.

“Drinking,” Andy replied, taking a sip from the bottle, unaware of where she had left her glass.

“Why are you drinking?” Quynh asked then, taking a seat on the pew in front of Andy, her body sideways and studying the other woman.

The retired soldier took a deep breath, relaxing her body in her seat, and answered as sincerely as she could. “Because the world is _bad_ , life is _difficult_ and I’m… talking to a… a _ghost_ ,” Andy’s bittersweet smile banished toward the end of her sentence, she ended up mumbling the end, but Quynh heard her loud and clear.

“Oh, I’m the third one on the list?” Quynh’s lips formed a teasing smirk, “Here I was thinking I was special.”

Andy couldn’t hold back her smile, or a small chuckle from escaping. She took another sip of her bottle and rubbed the palm of her hand over her face. Never mind how or why she found herself in such a situation, she gave up and decided to embrace it. 

“Are you real?” she blurted out.

“I _was_ ,” Quynh answered, not exactly sadly but just… nostalgic, “I was the most real thing this land ever saw.”

Andy nodded, further relaxing on the uncomfortable wooden seat, “What happened then?” she wondered.

Quynh shrugged as if it was nothing, “I died.” She didn’t elaborate any further than that. She stayed quiet watching Andy process the information, or at least attempt to. Because it was obvious that it was more than she could understand, especially while drunk. Quynh decided she could indulge her in a simple conversation. “Why do you say the world is bad?” Quynh broke the silence, and added with a smile, “I mean… I have my thoughts on the matter but…”

Andy stared at her in wonder, and explained herself. “I dedicate my entire life to doing good for the world, and it’s never been enough. It’s useless. The world… doesn’t want to _be_ better.”

Quynh made a show of acting thoughtful, humming and looking up at the ceiling of the chapel. “Were you alone?” she asked, and noticing Andy’s confusion she added, “Were you always working alone, to help the world?”

Andy shook her head slowly, “No, I- I always had a team and… it’s complicated but no, I wasn’t alone.”

“If there’s still more than one person fighting for this wretched world then I suppose it’s not so bad, is it?” Quynh smiled gently, pleasantly surprised to see the other woman’s features softening. “Now, why is life so difficult?”

“Why are you talking to me?” Andy replied with a question of her own, her mind at ease with the alcohol in her system, and possibly also because of her company.

“Why are  _ you  _ talking to a ghost?” 

Quynh’s boldness impressed Andy. She appreciated it, and she ended up smiling despite herself. Neither of them said anything else for a long moment, they only stared at each other. Two broken souls with lots of questions but stubborn enough not to give many answers. Two beautiful women, possibly dangerous for others and themselves, but not for each other. Two pair of eyes, dark and light but equally as beautiful and deep, staring at each other, trying to take a glimpse past the resentment and grief that clouded their eyes, trying to find that sweet spot in each other that made possible each of the unexpected, small and soft smiles they had given each other so far.

“Cheers,” Andy said, lifting her bottle up between them and then to her lips.


	7. Offensive

The seventh day of Andy’s new job would come and go in a blur. It was the weekend, which meant that, luckily, Nile wouldn’t be there to witness the mess Andy had made of herself. That, however, didn’t mean that the soldier was all alone. The handful of moments she’d manage to remember of that day spent in a drunken stupor, Quynh was there with her in all of them.

First, Andy woke up right as the sun was coming out. It was terribly cold, and the very first rays of sun weren’t yet enough to completely hide the light of a few stars above her. The sky would have looked so beautiful, if Andy had cared to look. Instead, she woke up with a pained groan, and rolled to her side in the sand. She was completely clueless as to how she ended up passing out outside, snuggling her second bottle of vodka. She wasn’t completely sure if it had been a dream, or if the thing that woke her up had been a light kick to the stomach. Either way, Quynh was standing up beside her, looking at her in a completely new and entirely unpleasant way.

“What?!” Andy coughed, tried and failed to sit up, “Ghosts don’t drink?” Her vodka-induced stupidity was met with silence and an arched eyebrow from the other woman. “Oh fuck off,” Andy waved her off, “I don’t need your judgment. I’m fucked up enough, in case you haven’t noticed.” She closed her eyes and tried to maintain her frown, but when she heard a scoff and the ruffling of a dress on the sand, she couldn’t help opening a curious eye to watch Quynh sit down close to her.

“It would have been impossible not to notice _that_ , Andromache. And that’s coming from someone who’s entire existence is supposed to be impossible,” Quynh said. Her face tried to remain expressionless once she heard the bitter chuckle from the drunk woman lying on the sand, but her eyes failed to hide her amusement. “I don’t judge you, somehow. I know you’ve had your fair share of pain to deal with. I don’t pity you either because, well, I believe I have it much worse so, obviously, pity is entirely useless, isn’t it? I guess I just find your behavior… offensive.”

“ _Offensive_?” Andy repeated. That had to be one of the last words she had expected. The intrigue helped her finally sit up and face Quynh.

“I’m dead, Andromache. Just because you can see me doesn’t mean I’m really living,” Quynh explained, “I’m doomed to a hollow, insignificant, tasteless existence. I can’t touch, I can’t smell, taste, or feel anything. I can’t even stray too far away from the very spot where I once died or I’m pulled back again. I don’t even have the privilege of a certain death waiting ahead of me.”

Quynh made a pause, and stared at the woman sitting in front of her. Andy was looking at her, still beyond drunk, but with such attention and curiosity in her earnest green eyes. At that moment Quynh realized she had just told a lie. She couldn’t touch, smell, or taste anything. But she could still feel. She could _feel_ something, she _was_ feeling something, in fact, while she looked at Andy. It was a feeling as pleasant as it was unwanted and scary.

“And here you are,” Quynh added after unnecessarily clearing her throat to try and clear her mind, “You dare to waste your life like this. You clearly don’t realize how lucky you are, how precious your life is, and you waste it like this…”

It was happening again, Andy staring at Quynh with an intensity that neither of them knew how to handle or comprehend. Quynh didn’t know Andy perfectly well yet, she looked at her and she wasn’t sure if the woman was about to ask for something impossible, to start a useless fight, or end up crying. It turned out, Andy flinched away from her and started throwing up. 

* * *

Not too long later, Andy would feel conscious enough again while in the only functional bathroom of the entire building. She felt, for lack of a better word in her mind, like shit. She was hungry, and cold, but she was sweating, just utterly uncomfortable in her own body. She’d left the bottle on the door of the bathroom, and she didn’t have the strength to reach out for it, not from her perfectly uncomfortable place in one corner of the small room. 

“I’ve tried to get better. It doesn’t fucking work, okay?” she argued.

“Oh, is that so?” Quynh prompted her to go on, from her place leaning against the opposite wall.

“I _can_ stop drinking, if that’s what you’re wondering. I drink a normal amount just… when I’m not alone.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” Andy rolled her eyes and scoffed, but when she met Quynh’s eyes she looked genuinely apologetic, “I’m sorry.”

The other woman hummed nonchalantly and uncrossed her arms on her chest, she took a more relaxed position and nodded at Andy, “So, what else?”

Andy took her time with her answer. She still felt really drunk, and she wasn't sure what Quynh was asking. Until a vague memory from hours ago found her. “I’m _not_ wasting my life,” Andy stated, “I told you, I work trying to help the entire world, what else could I possibly do?”

“Have you tried living for yourself?” Quynh asked, and got her answer in the look of utter confusion that immediately took over Andy’s features. “Have you ever had more company than just teammates?” she asked then.

“Nobody stays longer than one night,” Andy smirked. A moment later she shook her head, fearing that the unimpressed look the ghost was sending her way would kill her somehow. Then, from her place of wasted on a cold bathroom floor, she really thought about Quynh’s question. “No,” she eventually replied, thinking it through, “I’ve had two dogs but, they die too soon, you know? It hurts too much. I’ve tried plants but I don’t have nearly enough patience for that.”

Her answer earned her a sigh from Quynh, but at the same time the woman walked closer, kneeled beside Andy, and with burning curiosity in her eyes she went on asking, “What about… what about the rest of the world you try so hard to protect? Art, literature, music, technology, new places!”

“I don’t have the time,” Andy shrugged and looked away.

Almost instantly, Quynh snapped, “Bullshit!”

“Listen, Quynh, this is it!” Andy matched her intensity and looked at her with immensely tired eyes, “This is me, and my life, and I can’t do any better than this. I’ve only ever lived for my work and when it all went to shit, I went down along with it. I’ve tried living, it’s  _ not  _ for me.”

A very tense silence followed Andy's outburst. She had closed her eyes, and tightened her hands into fists, upset with herself about her cowardice, but she really preferred not to see the expression in the other woman’s face after her hopeless words. She was starting to hope that her company had vanished, when Quynh spoke up again.

“In all your previous attempts you didn’t have my help.”

“How can you help, Quynh?” Andy asked. She had tried to sound sarcastic, but a sincere interest showed through the cracks on her facade.

For a few moments, there was no answer, only silence. That’s until all hell broke loose the moment that Quynh turned on the shower. Along with the loud splashing of the cold water on the tiles and Andy’s body, Andy’s outraged yells filled the bathroom and spilled into the hallways of the empty building, followed closely behind by Quynh’s surprisingly sweet and joyful laughter.

* * *

After her impromptu shower, Andy dragged herself out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, feeling Quynh following her.

Unbuttoning her shirt and with her back turned to the door, Andy asked, “Are you watching me?”

“Are you that modest?” Quynh replied, amusement crystal clear on her tone.

“No. Even less when I’m drunk,” Andy laughed. But, once her shirt was off, she turned around and all her smugness left her at once. Quynh was nowhere to be seen. There was a small frown on Andy’s face, her wet hair looked almost black and from the tips of it water droplets fell on the floor, and she resembled, as Quynh thought before vanishing, a lost puppy. 

At the moment, Andy’s mind was battling conflicting emotions and difficult questions. Had she wanted Quynh to still be there when she turned around or not? Why? Was she disappointed? Why? Why did she miss so badly that pair of intense, intelligent, and warm brown eyes? Was it just to escape the crushing loneliness, the ferocious grief, and guilt that threatened to overtake her whenever she was alone? Or maybe it was just a matter of Quynh and just Quynh?

Either way, Andy chose the wrong answer to all her questions. She picked up the bottle again.

* * *

Andy woke up later mostly just because her position sitting on the stairs was incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Quynh,” she slurred before even opening her eyes.

“Andromache,” the ghost replied.

A relieved sigh escaped Andy’s lips. With a lot of effort, she opened her eyes, and looked up at the other woman. “You’re angry with me,” Andy blurted out as soon as her brain processed the sight of the deep frown in Quynh’s face.

“This is so _frustrating_ ,” Quynh scoffed, sitting down on the steps beside Andy, “Look at you! If I… If I was alive… If I was alive I’d get out of here running! I’d run to the nearest town and I’d eat one of each fresh fruit of the season, I’d ask a stranger to play me their favorite song on any instrument available and I’d dance, I’d dance until my feet couldn’t keep me up anymore! And…”

“What else?” Andy asked, she genuinely asked, even through the fog of her mind. She was really listening, and the entire time she was wearing a dopey smile that, for the unfamiliar nice feeling tickling it gave her, made Quynh want to slap her for it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Quynh looked away and shrugged, “I would probably try to burn down some church, at least.”

Andy started laughing, she started giggling in a way that had to be possible only after drinking so much. The entire time Quynh looked at her with a gentle smile, chuckling along with her here and there. Eventually, when she calmed down enough, Andy sighed, “I can’t move.”

“Oh, come on,” Quynh rolled her eyes again, but still she was amused, “I’m going to kick you down these stairs, see if you hit your head hard enough to wake up and start doing something good with your life.”

Then, as it seemed to be common when she was drunk, Andy completely turned the conversation around. This time, from playful to serious. “Why are you trying to help me?” she wondered out loud.

“I have nothing else better to do,” Quynh quickly replied, but before she got a chance to change the subject, Andy insisted.

“You care,” Andy stated, though it sounded like a question, so she added a real question, “Why do you care?”

Not that she had planned to say something about it, but Quynh thought dishonesty was useless, so, she replied, “You are a mess, Andromache, but you’ve treated me like a person. Not even while I was alive I had such luck.”

“You care about me?” Andy asked again, looking even more confused, even if, Quynh believed, she had already had her answer.

“Do  _ you  _ care about me?” Quynh threw back at her defensively.

Andy didn’t think a person could regret blinking, of all things. But, Quynh had been right there, close enough to try to touch, and Andy had just blinked and an instant later Quynh was completely gone.

“Fuck,” Andy cursed. Quynh was gone before Andy had managed to say, “I do. Of course, I do. Stop fucking vanishing like that.” She stood up, determined to search for the other woman in every corner of that damned building, but she didn’t get very far. Still drunk, Andy stumbled on the last steps of the stairs and fell down. After helplessly punching the ground she rolled on her back and covered her face with both hands. “I care. I care so much, Quynh. All I want is to… _know_ you. I care, please. My problem’s always been caring too much, trying to save lives that aren’t mine to save and I know, I _know_ I can’t save yours but I care… about you… so much.”

Andy fell asleep again just like that in the ground. Exhausted, confused, insecure, feeling every one of the worst emotions she had carried for too long and wishing more than anything she could put them down for once and for all. She fell asleep without knowing if Quynh had been there to hear her or not.

* * *

Andy slowly woke up on the floor of a room she couldn’t recognize in the state she was in, but she took note of the soft rug against her cheek, and Quynh’s even softer voice gently easing her into consciousness. Well, the words were not that gentle.

“Andromache,” she called her name softly, “Are you still alive? Or do you want so badly to stay here with me?”

“I’m alive,” Andy grumbled, turning to lay on her back, feeling an awful taste in her mouth, “And you can call me Andy.”

“No thank you,” Quynh shook her head and grinned, “You frown every time you hear your actual name. It’s hilarious.”

Effectively, Andy frowned, but it was all a lie. The truth was that Andy had started smiling whenever Quynh said her name, and Quynh liked to see that smile.

“What do you mean to stay here with you?” Andy asked, rubbing a hand over her face, trying to stay awake.

“Well, look at you, you’re drinking as if you were just begging to die as soon as possible.”

The words stunned Andy and she suddenly felt very awake. “Am I not- I mean, yes, but…” she shrugged, well aware that she wasn’t making any sense, but feeling the words take shape somewhere in her chest and coming to the surface without really meaning to. “Have you heard about living on borrowed time?” she blurted out, and went on without checking if Quynh was following, “I feel like I am living on wasted time. Like I was meant to die one time, a while ago, but I didn’t. And this extra time is not… good, it’s just a waste. And now I’m asking myself _why_. If there’s no purpose to it. I feel like I’m not supposed to hoard all these minutes, to keep living even though I don’t deserve it.”

“So I guess this,” Andy raised the almost empty bottle she had been cuddling in her sleep, “this is just a little help, to hurry up the process that I cheated once.”

Andy started drinking again as soon as she realized Quynh wasn’t there to listen anymore. Maybe Quynh just didn’t want Andy to watch the disappointment in her face. Because the image of her might be gone from the room, invisible to Andy’s eyes, but her voice was still there, clear as day. “If only we were all as lucky as you, Andromache,” she said.

* * *

Andy opened her eyes sometime on the afternoon of the next day, sitting on the kitchen floor and with an empty bottle of vodka beside her, the second one. She cursed under her breath and closed her eyes tightly, trying to reign in her headache and remember the events that brought her down to the floor.

The entirety of the previous day was blurry at most. All her conversations with Quynh so far were somewhat blurry in the ex-soldier’s mind. She did remember craving any sort of solid food in the morning, didn’t remember what she ate, but she was alive and on the floor of the kitchen, good enough for her, Andy thought.

When she opened her eyes again, Quynh was sitting on top of the kitchen’s counter, frowning at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Andy grumbled. She was interested in how real Quynh looked, the sun on her black hair, her legs crossed elegantly, and her eyes so intrigued by the sad sight of Andy on the floor. “What? Am I not good enough company? I already knew that,” Andy groaned, and let her head fall back against the wall.

“You were pleasant enough at first,” Quynh sighed, and if it showed a bit more emotion than intended, well, she hoped the drunk woman on the floor wouldn’t notice, “Then you started breaking things and drinking-”

“Okay, we talked about what actually happened in the attic-”

“Okay, okay, I started it, fine,” Quynh raised her palms in defense, but then looked at Andy very seriously, “What happened to you?”

The other woman looked at her lap, tapping her finger on her thigh, hating that question. “You heard. You were there when I talked to Nile,” she answered.

“You were holding back,” Quynh retorted, as softly as she could. Andy didn’t flinch or walk away, but she didn’t offer more information. “Talk to me,” Quynh whispered, “That was the advice from that smart young woman. And do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had any real conversation?”

“We talked yesterday,” Andy smirked when the other woman rolled her eyes. “Why would I talk to you?” Andy added, with enough lightheartedness for Quynh to know she’d already convinced her.

“Because you feel dreadfully sorry for the sad but terribly good-looking ghost that’s in your kitchen right now,” Quynh replied with a small shake of her head, making her hair move delicately around her face, leaving Andy mesmerized for a moment or two.

There was a moment long enough for Andy to remember Quynh saying the words “ _it's offensive_ ” about the way Andy was living her life. She wouldn’t say it was completely life-changing, not yet, but she was embarrassed enough to put all the strength she had left in her to make, at very least, one first attempt at being something different.

Finally, Andy started to get up from the floor. “This is not my kitchen,” she said, moving around it as if it was, dropping the bottle on the trash and getting ready to get started on preparing a decent meal, “I’m only working here as some sort of temporary security guard, keeping the place safe, you know? And… I took this supposedly painfully boring job because I was… trying to escape from the version of myself that got wasted like this every day for weeks after my last mission. A tragic event that I suppose you want to hear all about?”

Andy was standing in front of the open fridge, and she turned her head to look back at Quynh, who was now sitting on top of the kitchen table. Quynh smiled softly, but happily, and nodded. Her eyes were kind enough to convince Andy to finally tell her story, from beginning to end.

Quynh listened intently as Andy walked her through her life, traveling and fighting for her life in one way or another since she was still a child. The entire time Andy was vague and nonchalant about specific places and dates, playfully claiming she couldn’t remember anymore, and each time looking back to give herself one of Quynh’s smiles. Andy told her about joining the army, some army, when she was way too young, about being too rebellious to stick to the norm and be accepted in those spaces, but too talented and strong to be dismissed from that world. Her youth, skills, intensity, and natural ability for leadership put her right in the sights of powerful people in need of capable soldiers that didn’t fit in with the rest. The beginning of Andy’s career as a special soldier that worked outside of any lawfully acknowledged army was turbulent at best and it left her with many scars and regrets that she’d carry with her forever. But then, as she gained her own power and influence, she started disrupting the spaces of the people that paid her, and she started making her own decisions, choosing her own missions, meeting the right people to do some good for the world.

“That’s when I met _Lykon_ ,” Andy sighed, sitting at the table to enjoy her lunch while Quynh listened, sitting on another chair across the table. Andy figured out that no matter the pain of her loss, she’d always smile when she said his name. “He was an extraordinary soldier, and an even better person. He was my best friend in ways that I don’t have the words to explain. We were on the same boat, we just needed someone to believe in us, to believe we could do some good and would send us there, where people needed us. That’s where Copley came in.” This time Andy couldn’t avoid rolling her eyes.

“Copley worked with the CIA,” Andy paused to look at Quynh who, undoubtedly, looked confused, but wouldn’t ask, knowing it wasn’t all that important to know small names and terms that weren’t all that meaningful in the scheme of Andy’s life. “He was a good, powerful man. He had good intentions, he just didn’t have it in himself to leave his desk, and leave his wife behind. So, we made a team. He was good at what he did, assembling teams of outcasts that had the skills and recklessness to do the right thing against all odds. It was good, great even, we did a lot of good for the world and then… _Booker_.” At the mention of the third man of the group there were no smiles and no rolling of eyes from Andy. She looked just… sad.

“Sebastien was the new kid. It wasn’t an easy job but, at first, he fit right in, even if it was wrong from the start. He didn’t join for the right reasons. He was with us because he was a good soldier with nothing better to do, nowhere to go, no one… See, he lost his family, tragically, but he was dealing with it in all the worst ways. Eventually, he dragged all of us down with him.”

Andy made a pause to close her eyes, clear her throat, stop the tears from coming and stop herself from finding the third bottle of vodka. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see Quynh was now sitting on the floor, where Andy had woken up not that long ago. With a nod of her head and warm eyes she invited Andy to sit beside her, and the invitation had been accepted. It wasn’t more comfortable exactly, not physically. But it felt right, somehow. And there was the fact that Andy was sitting right beside Quynh, close enough to reach out and touch her, if she dared.

“Not too long after Booker joined us, Copley’s wife died. It definitely took a toll on the whole group, we all loved her but… Booker and Copley got closer and, two grieving men working together while surrounded by all this violence well… The thing is, before joining us, Booker worked with an Intelligence team, and he got in trouble with the wrong people. People that killed his family. People that Copley found and tracked down. The two of them got together and tricked us into going on a mission to face those people. Our small team against a small army. It was a suicide mission right from the very beginning. But that’s what Booker wanted, and Copley stayed safely behind his desk, and neither of them thought to ask the rest of us if we had wanted to die that day.”

There was a pause where Andy not so gently wiped away a tear that had escaped her eyes. She didn’t get to see the way Quynh’s hands tightened to small fists in her lap, restraining herself from the urge to reach out and… do _anything_ , offer any sort of comfort, wipe that tear away herself, hold Andy’s hand, just brush her shoulder against hers.

“Fucking Booker didn’t even let me die along with my team,” Andy gritted her teeth, remembering the worst moment of her life, felt her heart break again as badly as it did then, “He shoved me away, shot me down himself, not enough to kill me but enough to keep me from moving forward with him, from joining the rest of our team, from being absolutely massacred by the enemy. As if I would have wanted to keep living after that.”

“I should’ve known, I should’ve noticed something was wrong but I _didn’t_. I let my team walk into a trap, I let Booker give up against his misery. Lykon died and I am here and it doesn’t feel fucking _fair_.”

For a moment, all of Andy’s body was turned into a complete expression of sorrow. She was tense from head to toe, her face contorted into a pained frown, eyes closed and her hands were pulled into fists so tightly her fingernails were digging into her palms. Then, so suddenly, it was over, almost violently, with shocking gentleness. Andy still had her eyes closed, but her eyelids were fluttering. All her effort was put into holding back a sigh when she felt Quynh’s touch.

It was incredibly soft, the faintest, most tender touch, and Andy didn’t think she had ever been touched like that in her life, as if she were precious and delicate instead of the coldness and roughness that had clung to her during her entire life. Quynh was just barely brushing her knuckles against Andy’s upper arm, the contact was minimal and it was the most real thing Quynh had experienced since her untimely death. More than that, it was the most alive she could remember feeling, even when she still had a beating heart.

Eventually, Quynh had to pull her hand back. The loss made Andy finally open her eyes and turn to look at her. It might have been without meaning to, but her eyes were unmistakably expressive. Those gorgeous green eyes of incredible depth that should hold all the love in the world and had recently been filled with nothing but grief. Those eyes were staring straight into Quynh’s eyes, begging for something good, something gracious and entirely impossible. Begging for something that she couldn’t articulate yet, something she didn’t even think Quynh could offer to her, but begging nonetheless.

“Thank you for sharing your story, Andromache,” Quynh said, a little breathlessly as she looked away, unable to stand the earnest look in the other woman’s eyes much longer. But there was something else she needed to say before moving on, “You do know it wasn’t your fault, right?” she asked, “Deep down, you do understand that it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have stopped or changed the past, and someday you’ll accept that… right, Andromache?”

Andy answered with a noncommittal shrug, “I can’t make any promises,” she replied with a small smile, inspired by Quynh’s apparent determination to call her only by her full name. At least, she couldn’t say Quynh wasn’t completely wrong. Andy couldn’t promise she’d ever accept it, but deep down she really knew she couldn’t put all the blame on her shoulders. Someday she’d accept it. Someday, she’d put that heavy burden down.

“Thank you for sharing your story with me,” Quynh repeated, her expression starting to light up, “I will keep your story safe, carrying it in my soul. Maybe then it won’t be so heavy on yours. Is that fine with you?”

“It sounds perfect, thank you,” Andy answered, very seriously.

Quynh looked away again, at the window of the kitchen that showed the sun going down on the horizon. “It’s late, Andromache, you should rest,” she said, and rolled her eyes when the woman beside her scoffed, “You look tired, don’t be so stubborn.”

A moment later, Quynh was standing up and Andy followed right behind her. “Why don’t  _ you  _ tell me a story now?” Andy said, walking to the one perfectly comfortable couch on the original foyer of the building that she had made sure to dust off on the day she arrived. Her question had been deliberate, a hopeful attempt for the other woman’s story, and still a kind offer to hear anything else. Quynh, also deliberately, took the second meaning.

A few moments later, both women found themselves in arguably the best room of the entire building. It was a nicely decorated hall that even with most of the furniture and art covered by white sheets, still held some of its glory. Plus, it included a beautiful balcony with a view of the ocean, which Andy left open to enjoy. She laid back on the couch and for a long while fought with everything she had against sleep so she could keep listening to Quynh’s stories.

That’s how Andy found out about the very fun and friendly homeless man that talked to her as if she was his dead wife and took over the building before Nile’s boss became interested in saving it. There was the family that flew over the ocean to renovate the place and had to leave because the youngest kids were terrified of Quynh. There had been many robbers through the ages, some desperate people that Quynh watched drive away with a couple of things, and some evil and calculating ones that she had the time of her life scaring right out of there. There had been, of course, the times when the building was a functioning place, and Quynh had delighted herself with the workers’ gossip, even intervening to make things a bit more interesting here and there.

Later, when Andy wouldn’t be on the edge of slumber, when she wouldn’t feel the effects of an entire day of drinking, when she had the time and space to get lost in her thoughts, she would think a lot about this moment. About Quynh’s complicated relationship with the place. Sometimes she talked about it as if she wished she could burn it down, or at least had tried to. The next moment she was undeniably protective of these walls and everything hiding inside. Then there were Quynh’s thoughts on… people. She called most people silly, boring, uninteresting. But some of them she had studied in a way that couldn’t be just out of boredom.

Quynh’s way of talking about herself wasn’t any less complex. When she was joking she didn’t think twice about throwing around terms like “ghost” and “dead woman”. But when she was serious she carefully danced around her situation, showing glimpses of her core, her loneliness, her sadness, and resentment.

Finally, there was the subject of Quynh’s condition, the physical part of it. Andy could hardly wrap her mind around it. How couldn’t she be real? How could she be a figment of Andy’s imagination? How could she be anything other than alive, beautifully, and undeniably alive? She couldn’t be a ghost, she couldn’t be an illusion, she couldn’t be an untouchable dead woman lingering on as a fragment of a long lost soul. When she stood in front of the balcony, playfully blocking Andy from the view of the ocean, she was smiling, and her eyes were sparkling, her hair looked infinitely soft and her skin entirely radiant. She was clever and relentless, graceful and sweet, and she was everything Andy had _ever_ wanted. Everything she could _never_ have, Andy added to herself right before falling asleep.

* * *

There was one special moment. A matter of a few seconds. As a soldier, Andy understood perfectly how tremendously important a few seconds could be. But, as a broken woman with too much alcohol in her body, pain in her heart and sleep in her eyes, seconds stretched into minutes, months, and thousands of years. 

She felt too small on that couch, scrunching her face to conceal the headache growing somewhere deep in her skull. “Quynh,” she whispered into the night, “Quynh,” she mumbled, echoing herself, unable to tell if she had opened her mouth at all the first time, “Quynh,” she repeated.

“I’m here, Andromache. What do you need?”

Just hearing her voice made Andy smile. But she didn’t open her eyes though. She had felt the lightest brush of fingers on her forehead, moving her hair away, and she was afraid that opening her eyes would make the illusion fade away. She was confused by the question though. Andy knew what she wanted, not what she needed. Or so she thought. Being drunk, she couldn’t tell the difference, she only knew the answer.

“For you to stay with me,” she replied.

She heard Quynh sigh. She  _ felt  _ Quynh’s sigh. But she couldn’t tell where the other woman was, if anywhere at all, or everywhere around her. Andy thought she would start weeping, spurred by the desperate and impossible need to reach out and touch Quynh.

“What do _you_ need?” she asked then, walking a fine line between, on one side, a burning heart begging her to open her eyes and throw herself into arms that couldn’t catch her, and on the other side, the sad reality and restrictions of a human body, a mortal body that insistently dragged her back into unconsciousness.

Quynh thought about her life, what she could remember of it. She thought about her death, compared it to Andy’s life. She thought of centuries of solitude that came to a surprising halt when this wounded soldier, this woman scattered in many sharp little pieces, when Andy walked into her life, her tomb, her prison, her only home. Andy, with all her wit, and every side of her complicated and untamable passion, with her altruism, all that endless goodness in her heart that she never quite completely figured where to place. In the end, she was mostly thinking of Andy’s needs instead of hers when the answer came to her.

Another quick thousand of years passed before Quynh replied, but her words permanently marked a change in Andy.

“For you to live, really _live_ , Andromache, live wholeheartedly and free,” Quynh said, “Won’t you live a little more, for me?”


	8. Try

“Andy?” a voice whispered, just on the edge of genuinely worried, “Andy!”

The retired soldier groaned, and made a move to roll around in bed, meeting instead the back of the couch she fell asleep in. Her mind, still hanging on to dreams of dark hair blowing in the sea breeze, refused to acknowledge the obstacle. Andy tried to roll in the opposite direction, resulting in her almost falling off the couch. Only her legs fell off the edge, effectively waking her up at last.

“Oh, thank God you’re alive,” Nile sighed, “Man, I thought you were dead! I searched for you all over and I found you snoring here in this random room.”

“I don’t snore,” Andy groaned, rubbing her face with the palms of her hands, and feeling the pain of a bad sleeping position all over her neck and back. She wasn’t half as hungover as she could have been though.

It takes a few more moments of teasing and asking for reassurance for Nile to really believe that Andy would be alright. Then, the younger woman left, to move on with her day and her work, leaving Andy alone with her thoughts. Thoughts that were, in all honesty, mostly blurred and scattered, but one particular face stood out from the haze. Quynh’s face, her voice, the way she moved, her words. Her expressive face that flowed so easily from playful to stern to curious, complete with a pair of eyes more alive than Andy had seen in her life. Quynh was apparently stuck in the disheveled dress she was made to wear when they killed her. Though, of course, no damned priest from the middle ages could have predicted how flawlessly the woman would command the dress to adapt to her body and graceful movements so that she seemed, far from as stylish as she’d like to be, surely, but, as if caught by surprise in her own home supposedly unprepared to entertain guests, but entirely comfortable and more at ease than anybody else would have been in her situation. Then, well, then there were her words.

Words that Andy, for the life of her, couldn't shake off her mind. She might not remember changing clothes, eating, or ending up on that couch. But she couldn’t forget Quynh saying  _ You dare to waste your life like this, You didn’t have my help, I will carry your story with me, Won’t you live a little more for me? _

How couldn’t she? 

She would try. That much she was certain of.

* * *

Nile was nearly done classifying all of the objects in one of the many odd rooms of the building. The sum of her work had to be enough to convince people not to tear down the entire place, she hoped. But she would need a little more if she wanted to convince anyone to turn it into a proper museum. Besides, there was that one mirror that she couldn’t quite place in a time period. No matter how hard she stared at it. That’s when she was startled by the sound of Andy’s boots entering the room.

“We should get going,” Andy greeted her, looking freshly showered, clean and put together. Not at all drunk, not even very hungover.

“Where…” Nile eyed her suspiciously.

“You are taking me out to town for some grocery shopping,” she dangled Nile’s car keys from her fingers as she spoke.

Through a frown, Nile asked, “Why? I thought there was food enough for-”

“I can’t keep living like this Nile,” Andy replied, and there was more to that sentence, surely, but she followed it with a smile and “There’s absolutely nothing sweet in this goddamn place. I’m getting snacks and some actual food. Besides, I actually can’t stand that bitter ass black coffee, it’s disgusting.”

There was a spark of excitement and delight in the young woman upon hearing the hint at this highly intimidating soldier possibly having a sweet-tooth. But before she could begin teasing her about it, her smile twisted into a frown and she made another question. “Why aren’t you going by yourself?” she asked, making herself forget how she had promised herself not to lend her car again to the other woman.

“I don’t completely trust myself to be- to go alone,” Andy explained very slowly, not pleased by the admission but making a surprising effort, “I don’t want to make more mistakes. Maybe a little company is not so bad.” She finished with a shrug.

Her nonchalance was outperformed by the historian’s excitement. “I’m great company! Oh! I have a great playlist for car rides like this.”

Andy followed her with a slightly confused frown, an easy smile, and a strong need to look back to every room they walked through, hoping to meet a sweet pair of brown eyes that only showed themselves to her.

* * *

Upon arriving back to the old place, Andy looked up at the windows and was happy to find Quynh there, looking out for her. She looked relaxed, leaning against the window frame, so present, much more than the previous time. If she was a little tense, if she had been anxiously waiting by the windows, unsure if Andy would come back, well, there was no way for Andy to know that yet.

Andy had managed to coax the younger woman into letting her drive to and from their shopping spree. That was perhaps the reason she got assigned to carry most of the bags. A duty distracting enough, even if she hadn’t stopped in the middle of her path to look up at the windows again, hoping to catch another sight of the woman stealing her every thought. A small mistake, considering that when she finally tried to take another step forward her body collided with Nile. Something in their bags sounded like it cracked, but neither seemed to care.

“What did you see?” Nile quickly asked her, “Did you see something? What were you looking at?” She retreated their steps and stared intently at each window available.

“Nothing,” Andy huffed and walked around the other woman to enter the place. Of course, there were genuinely no signs of Quynh in any window, not even the kitchen when Andy arrived, Nile following her closely behind.

“Seriously?” Nile scoffed, giving a helping hand on pulling things out of the bag and laying them out on the kitchen table for Andy to distribute them around the kitchen. “You’re telling me you’ve been living here for what? A month? And you’ve seen nothing spooky at all?”

Andy chuckled warmly at her. “It’s been only a week, Nile. And no… I…. haven’t been spooked, at all.”

“You hesitated, why did you hesitate?” Nile insisted, “You have seen something, haven’t you?”

This time, Andy smiled more confidently. “Look around you, Nile,” she gave a nod of her head, “Do  _ you  _ see something?” 

Skeptical of being laughed at but genuinely curious, Nile did look around her, turned around, studying the corners of the kitchen and taking a look at the hallway that was open behind her, completely missing the sight of Quynh standing right there, playfully waving her fingers at her.

When Nile faced Andy again and shook her head saying “I see nothing.” The soldier almost burst out laughing, which, of course, made it all that much harder to believe her.

* * *

After a long day of work, with a more-than-necessary amount of interruptions from Andy to go grocery shopping, chat, or share some snacks, Nile was feeling more than ready to go back home. However, as she approached her car, she was stopped by Andy calling out to her.

“Nile, wait!” Andy called her as she jumped down the steps to joining the younger woman in the dusty parking lot they had.

The sight of Andy, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and smiling nervously for what could have been the first time in her life, confused Nile.

“Andy, what’s going on?” She tilted her head and eyed the seemingly untouched bottle.

“I wanted to give you this. Last one I had,” Andy said and held the bottle up between them like an offering, “Happy belated birthday, or early birthday, I have no idea, just take it.”

“Ah… thanks,” Nile replied, accepting the bottle though more than a little unconvinced, “Andy, are you sure? I- I mean, _thanks_ and yeah, I’d _love_ to get this thing away from you but…”

More words were unnecessary really. “I’m sure,” Andy nodded, confidently, “You know what? Save it. For the day that I get my shit together, and you get the attention and the credit you deserve for your job. We’ll drink to it.”

Nile grinned and took one good look at Andy. There was something different about her, that much was true, even if the taller woman wouldn’t confess what had happened during the weekend she likely spent drunk out of her mind and all alone. A vision? Revelation? Near-death experience? Nile couldn’t know. But she couldn’t help but trust this version of her co-worker of sorts. Andy stood taller, looking confident as she was meant to be, and smiling a little easier, not looking as if she dreaded a night alone in that place.

“Cheers,” Nile lifted up the bottle. Then, she was gone again.


	9. One Week

“Andromache, please stop acting like a child.”

“I’m trying to be polite!”

“I haven’t had a meal in centuries, I’m not offended by you eating… whatever that is.”

“It’s chocolate,” Andy replied, her mouth already full with the first bite. It was late in the afternoon, Nile was gone, and she was hanging out with Quynh in the kitchen. A few of the snacks Andy had bought that day were scattered on the table, as well as Andy’s boots. The soldier was amused by Quynh’s clear displeasure with her table manners. “Do you _know_ chocolate?” Andy blurted out without thinking twice about it, “How long has chocolate- how old are you anyway?”

Before the sentence was over, Andy knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Quynh tensed immediately and made a move to turn around, as if she would grant the other woman the decency of standing up and walking away instead of simply disappearing into thin air. Andy acted on impulse. One hand of hers flew to the table and she almost jumped in her seat, her feet falling on the floor and she said, “Wait. Don’t leave. Please, Quynh… _Please_.”

Andy couldn’t look at the table to confirm her fears, if her hand had aimed wrong, if Quynh had moved her hand away just in time, or if Andy reached out and her fingers found nothing real to hold on to. Either way, she couldn’t look, she was focusing all of her attention on Quynh’s face. She could almost see her flicker off reality in front of her eyes. There was so much tension in Quynh’s frown but, slowly but surely, it softened into a look of determination.

“Don’t ask me when, Andromache. Don’t ask me why, and please don’t ask me _how_ ,” she firmly stated. There was no need to be any clearer. She was speaking of her death. “Lastly, please don’t try to touch me,” this time she looked genuinely pained to say those words, “Don’t ask me for anything more than some company during the time you stay here, and I’ll be happy to give you just that.”

Andy didn’t really want to think too hard about why her heart was aching so badly. Besides, her priority was in making Quynh feel safe with her, content with her company. “I promise,” she replied almost in a whisper.

Almost as if a flip had been switched, Quynh took a deep breath, a simple performance, and relaxed in her chair. “Very well. Now… what don’t you tell about what are those colorful monstrosities that you plan on eating.”

Her words made the other woman chuckle and shake her head. She picked up the bag of gummy bears and grinned, trying to observe it from the perspective of someone seeing them for the first time. Unknowingly, they were starting one of the most interesting weeks of their lives.

* * *

The rest of their Monday was sweet, and strange. Sweet, for all the snacks Andy ate. Strange, for all the questions Quynh her for her. And every meal Andy would have in Quynh’s company for the rest of her stay in that place it would be the same. “How does it taste? But what does good mean? How sweet? How sour? Describe it better, Andromache.” Andy was perplexed by how difficult it was to explain what food tasted like, but she could say with certainty that she had never paid that much attention to the things she ate.

“Stop judging me,” Andy complained while waving a spoonful of Nutella in the other woman’s direction. She was once again reclined on a chair and with her boots on the table’s corner, much to Quynh’s annoyance.

“You just compared something to mud,” Quynh retorted from a different chair, an eyebrow rising on her forehead.

Andy rolled her eyes, “I’m not a cook or a poet. Just take my word, it’s delicious.”

“I doubt most of the things you have here are actual food!”

“What do _you_ consider food?!”

“Have you ever heard of something called fruits, and vegetables?” Quynh grinned as Andy scoffed, and her eyes turned dreamy when she added, “A fresh fruit of the season, plucked right off the tree, nothing could compare to it.”

Andy, of course, had her doubts, but decided to just shrug. “Fine. I’ll attack and rob the very first apple tree that shows up in my path, I promise.”

Her words earned her a warm laugh and a head shake from Quynh, who fondly accused her, “You’re like a little kid.”

Andy matched her smile but remained silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, “You would like this,” she said, only looking at Quynh thought she spoke of the diverse snacks surrounding them, “They’re more… interesting, and fun, than simple fruits.”

“Do you think I’m interesting, and fun?” Quynh winked at her.

After Andy quickly recovered, she shrugged once more, “You’re not too bad.”

They started laughing, wholeheartedly and free, until a sly kick from Quynh finished tipping over Andy’s chair and sent her, her boots, and her spoonful of chocolate down to the kitchen floor, just to begin laughing all over again.

* * *

The next day’s adventures, long conversations, new jokes, and endless discoveries started early, during Andy’s breakfast.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Andy asked, turning her head from the stove to glance at Quynh, who only mumbled “How?” to which Andy simply stated, “Weird. You’ve been looking at me weird the entire day.”

“ _Wrong_ ,” Quynh smiled, “I have been looking at you weird for days, since you tried to shoot me, you weirdo.”

“Very funny,” Andy tried to sound sarcastic, but she genuinely chuckled, hearing Quynh’s choice of words. It seemed the ghost had picked up new words over the years. Letting her meal cook for a moment longer, Andy fully turned around to face the other woman. “Seriously, what’s on your mind?” she asked.

After a second of thought, Quynh replied honestly. “Your clothes,” she said, and a pair of attentive green eyes urged her to go on, so she did, “I used to make gorgeous dresses for myself. I wore men's clothes once or twice, to get in or out of trouble. My clothes were remarkable, though a lot of work. I’ve seen people, through the years, come in here wearing things that get just more and more different from what I knew. Usually, they’re appalling creations, really. But I’ve never got a chance to interrogate someone about it.”

Andy nodded along, she finished preparing her breakfast and sat down to eat. “Well, I don’t know much about fashion.”

“Clearly,” Quynh smirked.

“ _But_ ,” Andy spoke and sent a bitter look her way that quickly vanished, “I’ll try my best to answer.”

The conversation was incredibly interesting, and Quynh’s hilarious remarks had Andy choking on her food more than once. Quynh was impressed by surprising things like sports bras, and beyond frustrated with Andy’s inability to properly describe the feeling of different fabrics. She threw the words “boring” and “tragic” like her life depended on it. She had been on the verge of criticizing how unnecessarily tight modern clothes were, but she dared to take a purely critical, good long look at Andy’s jeans, and decided against it.

“What do you wear underneath?” Quynh blurted out at some point after Andy was done with the dishes too.

“Sorry?” Andy arched an eyebrow, but there was no use in asking. The ghost was blunt, clearly, and the retired soldier wasn’t anything close to bashful. She opted for a playful smirk, “Quynh, are you asking to see my underwear?” Besides slightly shaking her head and matching her grin, Quynh didn’t get to give an answer before a thought popped in the other woman’s mind. “Wait. Have you watched me while I get dressed up?” Andy wondered.

Quynh rolled her eyes, scoffed, and looked away. “Oh, please, Andromache. I am a respectable lady, don’t offend me.”

However, there was something to be said about the way she didn’t look back at Andy. Andy’s smile grew in size. “But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you?” she insisted.

“Stop.”

“Tell me, do ghosts blush?”

“Stop it!” Quynh started laughing as she stood up from her chair and started walking away, followed closely behind by Andy, her laughter, her teasing questions, and that smile that wouldn’t leave her face.

* * *

Wednesday brought with it Nile, and one of the most fascinating additions to the dynamic in the old building. Again, Andy enlisted the young historian and her car for a quick trip to the nearest city. Nile had walked out toward the car first, leaving the retired soldier a moment alone by the door where, and she couldn’t exactly explain what prompted her to do it, she turned around and to a seemingly empty hallway and promised, “I’ll be back soon.”

Quynh didn’t exactly have a body that needed to breathe, but whatever her shape was made of, she exhaled a relieved sigh when she watched Andy return. Though it quickly turned into confusion.

“Andromache, what the hell is all this?”

“Okay, I see I’ll have a lot of explaining to do but I am so sure you’ll like it,” Andy grinned, staring at the handful of boxes that would provide her a laptop and internet connection.

“Were you _just_ talking to yourself?” Nile exclaimed, re-entering the kitchen, she sounded suspicious and excited too.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?”

Nile frowned, wondering how the older woman had managed to kill at once any chances of teasing her or accusing her of talking to ghosts. “Anyway,” she shrugged, “Are you rich or something? I would never spend this much money on something work-related.”

Andy snorted. “This is not work-related. It’s for me and… and I’m bored. And if you must know, yes, I guess the job pays well, but I’m not rich. I just don’t spend a lot of it.”

“Well, you know, if it’s too much money and it’s annoying you, you can always give it to me.”

“Nice try, kid,” Andy laughed, and lightly shoved her, but then she picked up one of the boxes and added, “I will pay you if you help me set this up though. I have absolutely no clue what this is.”

* * *

After a long day of Nile’s teasing and Quynh looking over their shoulders at the many wires and blinking lights and screens, it was done. Andy held in her lap the door that would show Quynh the world, and the world through all the years she had missed.

Of course, Andy could place the laptop on a table, but that would deprive her of the thoroughly enjoyable experience of Quynh sitting so close to her, leaning forward, just almost touching her, just to better study whatever picture, text, or video was showing on the screen. It was strange, the way she was right there, so close, and Andy couldn’t feel her breathing, or her heart beating, or any sort of warmth coming from her. In fact, it was terrifying, the way she sometimes caught herself staring at Quynh so intently that sometimes she would find herself looking through her, at whatever was beyond her. Each time, Andy would quickly close her eyes, look away, and come back barely put together enough to meet the other woman’s eyes. 

That night they watched Quynh’s first movie. A nature documentary from which she retained almost nothing, too preoccupied with trying to comprehend the sounds and images and the impossibility yet undeniably reality of them in front of her. “Whatever this screen shows me, that’s just another type of ghost,” Quynh had concluded at some point, right before her face lit up when a familiar animal took over the screen. Andy ignored most of the content of the movie as well, completely aware nothing else would compare to the experience of drinking in the emotions as they passed over Quynh’s face, more real than anything Andy could name.

* * *

On Thursday, Andy had trouble convincing Quynh to look away from the computer’s screen. She was just as fascinated as the previous day, if not more, but now she had gathered her thoughts enough to share her opinions, her many, many opinions.

“That is _not_ an animal, Andromache,” she said, more than once really, “It looks unnatural, and frankly, ridiculous.” Apparently many species had been discovered since her death.

She was also full of questions. Had she been in a fragile, physical body she might have fainted when Andy showed her a map of the world, all the new countries and cities and frontiers, and little details. Quynh was careful with her questions, knowing the wrong one might reveal too much, but she asked Andy about every place she had visited, and demanded pictures and stories.

Other moments couldn't have undermined the value of the previous ones, but they showed a truly breathtaking, precious reaction in Quynh. There was dancing, and there was music, simple women with guitars or entire orchestras, all of it had Quynh trembling, real body or not, she was trembling. Beside her, Andy held onto the couch’s cushions until her knuckles turned white, putting all her effort into stopping herself from reaching out and offering a comforting touch.

“Are you alright?” she eventually had to ask, fearing it had all been too much for the woman beside her.

“No, not really,” Quynh looked down at her lap, she was thoughtful for a long time. “The world… is so big, and beautiful, terrifying and ever-growing. I’ve missed so much of it but… I wasn’t meant to see all of this, you know? I am aware that I am seeing just a ghost of what the real experiences are like but, I got to see so much more than I was supposed to, sitting here with you. And I feel… _lucky_. For the first time, in a long, long time.”

Andy replied with the most honest smile she was capable of. A smile that wavered though. It was a proud grin, then a small and emotional smile, and everything in between. She wished she could give more to Quynh. She wished she could put into words how she felt infinitely more fortunate, for the opportunity of simply sitting there and watching her.

* * *

On Thursday night Andy was woken up from her sleep because her bed was shaking as badly as if a private earthquake had taken over her room exclusively.

“What the fuck?” she exclaimed, sitting up and with her heart hammering in her chest, until her eyes found Quynh standing up proudly at the end of the bed, “ _Quynh?!_ ”

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” she smiled, “I forgot to tell you, you should tell the young woman working here that the mirror that’s troubling here was brought here in the early nineties, from America.”

A tense silence followed. “Did you wake me up just for _this?_ ” Andy scowled at her.

“I was a little bored,” Quynh tilted her head from side to side before putting on another smile, “Did I scare you?”

“Fuck off,” Andy let her head fall back on the headboard of the bed, “Are you having fun?”

“Oh so much, I missed all these…”

“Ghost shenanigans?” Andy finished for her as she watched Quynh walk over to the window to open it, slam it shut, make it rattle on its hinges.

“Yes! I might have some fun with your young friend tomorrow.”

They exchanged a laugh, suspecting that Nile might actually love it.

* * *

Friday was a day filled with “Did you see that?” “Did you feel that?!” “Andy, did you fucking see that?” “Oh my God, you had to feel that!” and plenty of “What was _that?!_ ”

At the end of the day, after many mysteriously dropped objects, slammed doors, rattling windows, and strange shadows in the corners, Nile had a headache, Andy was juggling guilt and laughter, and Quynh was content with an incredibly entertaining day.

“This stuff happens all the time. I’m surprised you’re so shocked. It’s normal,” Andy placed a glass of water in front of the younger woman.

“It’s not _normal_ ,” Nile retorted, rubbing her temples, “This place is infested with ghosts and- how are you laughing?!”

“I’m not laughing,” Andy said, in between laughs, of course, “Have you considered ghosts could be a good thing?”

“Who _are_ you?” Nile closed her eyes for a moment, then asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Have you seen the witches?”

“I have not.”

“Andy,” she insisted, “Have you seen any ghost?”

She made a show of considering it. “What even _is_ a ghost? A ghost can be many things, don’t you think?”

“You’re so annoying,” Nile mumbled while her forehead collided with the table dramatically.

Andy allowed herself to keep chuckling. It had been an interesting conversation, with Quynh pulling funny faces while standing right behind Nile.

* * *

The pleasant atmosphere of the day stuck with Andy and Quynh long after Nile had left for the day. They strolled together the many hallways of the building, with its weird twist and turns and rooms pulled together from different ages and for different purposes. Quynh was full of stories, and Andy was a good listener.

The problem with good days was that they made people lower their guards. Both women were relaxed at the end of the day, at ease with each other, not overthinking what they said or planning how to react.

“There’s a saying about sliced bread, you know?” Andy said, taking another bite of her sandwich while Quynh hummed, interested enough but mostly amused to watch the other woman. “Yeah, something about it being old. Hey, when you- when did you… Oh. Shit.”

Instantaneously, Andy was jumping out of her chair and chasing after Quynh through the hallway. Not asking about when, not asking about her death, it had been a simple enough rule, and she hated herself for carelessly breaking it. Andy held a sliver of hope though, because Quynh hadn’t just vanished. Walking away gave the illusion that Andy could catch her.

“Quynh, wait, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!” She pleaded, chasing after her.

However, she was surprised when the other woman suddenly stopped. It happened so quickly. Quynh turned around, extended her arm, and placed her open palm against Andy’s chest, stopping her from crashing against her. One second, it was just a second of the certain and solid pressure of Quynh’s hand on her chest, and it was life-changing.

As soon as it happened, Quynh removed her hand, but Andy’s hand replaced it. She was gripping the front of her t-shirt as if her life depended on it, as if Quynh’s touch had left behind something precious, a one-time thing.

“1485,” Quynh whispered through the pain, “1485. That was the year that I died.”

She disappeared then, right in front of Andy’s eyes. Green eyes filled with tears.


	10. A Ghost's Story

Quynh didn’t show up again that Friday and, surprising and upsetting Andy, neither showed up on Saturday. She was there, she couldn’t _not_ be. But she refused to let Andy see her, and that was the worst part.

Andy’s Saturday was spent restlessly walking around the entire building, entering every room, begging for forgiveness to the walls. She barely ate that day, finding it utterly dull without the other woman’s company, without explaining every flavor, without stories about the world in the different ages shared between them. She also stepped outside, mindlessly walking along the shore in front of the building. Many times she considered running to the nearest town and finding any bar that would let her in. She considered calling Nile, as a friend, or calling Copley, to quit the job entirely. Eventually, exhausted beyond the emotional and physical, Andy fell asleep on a familiar chair.

She woke up again very late at night, and not because of the pain in her neck, but because of a strange sound. She looked around and found the source easily. For the first time since she had stepped foot into the building, the door that led to the prison cells was open. Without thinking twice about it, Andy made her way there.

After descending a flight of stairs, Andy entered a place that she would have qualified as dungeons. It was dark, cold, and the smell was awful. Probably the most terrible corner of the building, and it had suffered the least remodeling. Someone less brave, someone that wasn’t moving mostly because of a big heart, would have turned around. Andy, instead, kept her eyes firmly on the open door at the very end of the hallway, and walked straight to it. There were cells on each side of her and, for the first time, she found herself believing Nile’s ghost stories, suspecting Quynh wasn’t the only one there, fearing that if she should stand still for one second she would meet unspeakable visions staring at her from all sides.

The destination was completely worth it. The last call was cold, but much lighter, due to the open gates at the end that faced the ocean. And Quynh was standing there, waiting for her, but not staring at Andy, just at a particular spot where the stone wall met the floor.

“This is where I died,” Quynh whispered, finally. Andy tried to say her name, but Quynh went on unaffected. “I guess it’s obvious that a person wouldn’t be thrilled to talk about their own death.” Andy tried to apologize and, again, she went unheard. “I asked myself, if you’d really want to know and, in that case, _why_. I wondered if it’d be just morbid curiosity.”

“Do you think it’s that?” Andy said, her voice just the slightest bit stronger than her previous whispers.

“No,” Quynh shook her head and, at last, met Andy’s eyes. That one look, vulnerable, and hopeful, but fearful, a reflection of everything that Andy herself was feeling, was enough to break down her walls.

“Quynh, you’ve cared about me, and you’ve tried to help me. I care about you so, so much. I would do anything to help you, in any way you want me to, in any way you let me. It’s like you said, I can help you carry _your_ story, if you let me. I can help, I could take some of the weight of all those years alone, I could take some of the anger, I could. I would take anything you want to give me. If it would help you. If you want it.”

“Oh…” Quynh sighed, there was an ache that didn’t leave her expression but, there was a relief too. “I didn’t think a person like you could exist.” She allowed herself a moment to enjoy Andy’s smile, then she tilted her head to the side, inviting her to sit down with her, “Now, do you want to hear a ghost’s story, Andromache?”

* * *

Quynh’s story began with a big family. A big family with big problems that she had wanted to help but, being a girl, there wasn’t much she could do. So, she started breaking the rules here and there. Working where she wasn’t supposed to, stealing when she shouldn’t, and learning much more than anybody expected her to. Defiance to the norm, of course, was followed by punishment. What Quynh hadn’t expected was for her family, the same group of people that had had something to eat most days just because of her untamable spirit, would turn against her. Unwanted by her family and her neighbors, she started running. That’s when she met the so-called witches. 

Her association with witchcraft would end with her death but, as she told Andy, she would have died much, much younger had she not crossed paths with a kind and clever old woman that gave her a place to stay, work to do, and knowledge to keep. This old woman had friends, who had more friends, who were all in danger. Being knowledgeable was a crime, being different was a crime, being a woman was, basically, a crime. Quynh discovered that she performed well enough cultivating healing herbs, reading and writing books that were prohibited even thinking about. But, there was more, something more important that she could do. She had been fighting for her life since she was a child, it looked like it was time for her to fight for other people’s lives.

Quynh had been powerful, smart, kind, and a little reckless. She saved many of her friends from an early death, she saved many women accused of witchcraft but, in the end, one careless move and she couldn’t save herself.

“They enjoyed it, I think, when they finally caught me,” Quynh explained to Andy, “There was torture, of course, while they decided how to kill me to make sure I wouldn’t come back to haunt them. Clearly, they _failed_. But they were proud, I remember that much. Even if some of them were hesitant, maybe guilty, it was just _hypocrisy_ , since they never did anything to help. Either way, most of them were proud, and I can’t forget that.” There was a pause, for Quynh to gather her thoughts, as she prepared herself for the end of her story.

“I found out they had decided how to kill me, and so I decided I wouldn’t let them. I wouldn’t give them the pleasure, the chance to do it. There was one priest, assigned to bring me my daily meal, enough to keep me alive until they were ready to kill me themselves. I cared enough to find out two things about him, his name was Nicolo, and he carried with him a knife. On my last day, when he brought my food, I attacked him, and took his knife.”

“I killed myself, before anybody else had the opportunity… I woke up right here, to see them drag my lifeless body away. I tried to follow, to do _something_ but, I was powerless and, at first, for years, I couldn’t even leave this room at all…”

“During my imprisonment, and those first few years, I realized something. That, possibly, the worst part was going through all of it alone. That infinite loneliness. Some company would have…” Quynh paused, this time it looked like she wouldn’t say anything else. She just had one last thing to say, “Andromache… would you… will you sit here with me, for a moment longer?”

“Yes, definitely. For as long as you need,” Andy replied without hesitation, without showing the tears filling her eyes, without adding the promise that she would have stayed right there with her for years, a hundred, a thousand, forever if that’s what Quynh wanted.

* * *

Andy woke up a while later because of the early morning light coming in through the open gates that showed a breathtaking view of the shore. The soldier’s attention was elsewhere though. She was all focused on Quynh’s head resting on her shoulder. The weight was light as a feather but real, so undeniably present that it made Andy want to scream. Instead of any sort of outburst, she looked deep within herself to find every ounce of delicacy that she hoped she still carried with her after it being an unfamiliar concept for so long.

Quynh’s hand was resting on the floor between them, and Andy carefully moved her hand beside hers. She waited a moment, and received no reaction from the woman beside her. As slowly as she could, her hand moved closer to Quynh’s, until it was a matter of just her pinky finger reaching out, barely grazing Quynh’s finger. It was real. And it sent chills all over Andy’s body.

“I _told_ you not to do that,” Quynh’s whisper broke the silence of the early morning, but it didn’t stop Andy’s work. Their fingers continued to brush, pushing lightly against each other. “I asked you _not_ to do that,” Quynh insisted, her voice sounded strained, as if she were on the verge of tears that her illusion of a body couldn’t quite produce.

“Can’t you feel it? Quynh? Don’t you feel _me?_ ” Andy replied, her whispers were desperate, not at all matching the tenderness of her pinky finger intertwining with Quynh’s, in a promise they hadn’t yet made. “I _feel_ you,” Andy insisted, reverently, there was a smile starting to take over her face. But she had failed to feel the other woman grow furious, even if she also turned more solid as it happened.

An instant later Quynh was jumping off the floor, swaying on her feet for a moment, with a storm of feelings boiling inside her. “I can’t!” she yelled, angrier than Andy had ever seen her, “I can’t feel _anything_. I feel absolutely nothing, and that includes you, especially you, nothing!”

And she was gone.

“Fuck!” Andy slammed her hands on the stone floor and jumped to her feet, “Fuck, fuck,” she cursed repeatedly as she walked forward through the gates and to the beach. She was angry at herself, upset with Quynh, completely furious with the universe for placing her in the best and worst situation possible for the luck of meeting Quynh and the pain of not being able to reach her completely. She knew she had been wrong, she also knew what she had felt, and what she couldn’t help but feel, things she couldn’t remember ever feeling before, not all at once, not so intensely.

Andy was still immersed in her frustration and her confusion when she heard it, the gates of the prison cell slam closed. The sound carried with it two other things, one right after the other. One, the reminder that Andy kept all the doors of the building locked, and two, that Quynh wouldn’t open them for her now, she'd have to break a window, and that wouldn’t help at all with the pain of what was already a difficult beginning of the day.


	11. Impossible

On Monday morning Andy and Nile shared a cup of coffee in the kitchen before the historian got to work. Conversation was scarce. It was obvious that Andy looked like she hadn’t slept all night, but it was a very different look than from the early days working there. She didn’t look particularly haunted, annoyed, tired, or desperate for some convenient unhealthy coping mechanism.

“You look… thoughtful,” Nile announced, the moment she decided on an appropriate adjective. She received a noncommittal shrug. “Remember what I said about talking about it?” she tried, and upon receiving the slightest hint of a smile she continued, “Is it a life or death situation?”

“Worse,” Andy chuckled, shaking her head and giving up her resistance, she leaned back on her chair and prepared to talk, “Women.”

“Oh, alright,” Nile nodded, but after taking a look at Andy added, “Can’t imagine you struggling with that though…”

Andy laughed for the first time that day. “Do not _dare_ flirt with me, Nile, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

The young woman rolled her eyes and waved at her, “I’ll ignore that. Now, tell me, what’s going on?”

It was a difficult conversation to have, Andy thought, when Quynh could very well be standing in the room, hiding in plain sight, right beside her, listening. It wouldn’t have been the worst thing though. What Andy didn’t think she could stand though, was looking at Quynh as she said what she had to say. Intensely focused on her cup of coffee, she started, “Have you ever… um, wanted… Have you ever wanted someone that you know you can’t have?” Before she got an answer she had to add, looking at Nile, “But, I mean, absolutely _impossible_ to have.”

A deep breath, and then Nile was ready to try her best. “Huh, well, that was some interesting wording… First of all, does she want you too?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

A serious answer died right on Nile’s lips. She took another look at Andy and shook her head. “You know what? Forget it. Look at you, _of course_ she wants you too,” she said, promptly ignored Andy’s feeble protest, and continued, “Second, nothing is impossible, Andy.”

“Trust me, there _is_.”

Nile took a moment to consider the facts, Andy’s undeniable good-looks, her troubled but intriguing personality, her job suggested a bravery way above the norm and the will to fight any of life’s obstacles, plus, apparently, a comfortable financial situation. It was, if anything, frightening to think that there was someone impossible for the woman sitting in the opposite chair of the Nile. No use fighting her if she was so certain about it.

“Okay, so, you can’t have her. Maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world, you know?” One look from Andy let her know two things, that Andy believed it was, in fact, the worst thing in the world, and that she didn’t get Nile’s point. “What I mean is, you can’t _have_ her anyway, you can’t just take a person for yourself, no matter how much you want them. Look, if you’ve fallen this hard for her, you’ve clearly been able to share a lot. Maybe… that’s enough? If you can’t have each other, then whatever you can actually have together, give each other, no matter how small, even just one moment could be enough… could be the _best_ thing ever.”

For a few moments, there was only the sound of Andy’s fingers mindlessly tapping the top of the table. Eventually, she looked up at Nile with a spark in her eyes and said, “How are you so smart, kind?”

In response, Nile scoffed, “Oh, please. I’ve watched it all in movies and shows. Of course, you wouldn’t know about it because you tried the internet for the first time last week, grandma.”

The two women laughed together, as their bond continued to grow. That, however, didn’t mean that Andy wasn’t desperate for Nile to leave for the day. She had something to do. Something to say to a very special woman that was probably even more scared and confused than Andy was, but maybe, hopefully, she also felt the same way about her.

* * *

That afternoon, Andy made her way to one of her favorite rooms of the entire place, one of the few she cared about really. It was one of the best preserved rooms, the one with the nicest couch where she had fallen asleep before, and with the balcony with the gorgeous view that she would have exchanged for a look at Quynh any day. She stood there, fidgeting with her fingers, shifting her weight from foot to foot and thinking. She felt different, strange, and she couldn’t determine if it was in a bad way but she hoped with all her might that it was for the better instead. She desperately wanted to see Quynh, but she didn’t find it in herself to walk around screaming or throwing things again. She felt guilty and upset, but she wasn’t thinking of running away, or locking herself somewhere, or finding something to drink. She just wanted to talk.

“Quynh, are you here?” she said, just loud enough to be heard in that big room, “Come on, I want to talk… _please_.” And still, there was nothing but silence. Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She focused with everything she had, feeling not only as a soldier trained to hear an intruder nearby, but as a woman going crazy for another. “I can feel you, you know?” she said, softly this time, still with eyes closed, “You said… that there had to be something I wanted deeply because I saw you so easily. But that must go both ways, Quynh. If I saw you then, if I feel you know, it’s because you want it too. Because you want _me_ , I hope. Because now I know that what I want, what I wanted since the beginning was you.” When she didn’t receive an answer Andy felt her composure crumbling and her desperation growing. She didn’t dare open her eyes, but her hands did turn into fists and her voice definitely wavered when she spoke her next words, “Quynh, I’m leaving this Sunday.”

“What?” Quynh’s shocked reaction, even spoken from her place by the door, a handful of feet away from Andy, sounded so clear as if she had whispered them right against her ear.

“Yes, that’s a month,” Andy looked at her, finally. Quynh, in her unchanging form, no less glorious, looking every bit as unsettled as Andy felt.

“Oh…” she sighed, “I’m sorry, time… time’s weird, for me, it’s… I can’t keep a hold of it, you know? Which is maybe for the better but… this Sunday?”

There was a long pause there of simply staring at each other. A pause that, if not for the pain hanging above their heads, would’ve been sweet in how familiar and comfortable silence between them already felt. They took this moment as an opportunity to consider their situation, the great joys and sorrows that came with simply knowing each other, wondering if the middle ground between both extremes was worth it, wondering if there existed a middle ground to fight for at all.

“Can you listen to me for a moment? There’s a lot I want to say,” Andy carefully broke the silence, and exhaled when the other woman nodded in both acceptance and encouragement, “I told you about my life before this. About always holding people at a safe distance away from me, about only caring about my work until it, too, hurt me. But then I arrived here and, well, you were driving me crazy before I even saw you. And after I did, and with every conversation we’ve had, I just can’t get you out of my mind.”

“I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never felt this for anybody. It’s just you, you and everything that you are, your wit, your kindness, your curiosity, your everything. You told me not to ask for more than you can give me, so I just want you to share this week with me. That’s all. Just… _stay_ , this last week. You don’t have to give me anything but, if you’ll have me… I want to give you everything I have.”

Slowly, Quynh walked forward, until she was close enough to touch, if she could. “Oh, Andromache,” she sighed, “What if it’ll hurt?”

“It’ll be worth it,” Andy replied without hesitation, with enough conviction to steal a smile from Quynh even amidst the fear, enough to remind her she was standing in front of a woman that would lead an army just as confidently as she would fight heaven and hell for those she loved.

When Andy reached out, holding out her hand with her palm up for Quynh to take, the ghost of a woman still hesitated. “It hurts too much,” she shook her head, taking a step back, “I can’t feel physical pain, Andromache. The greatest pain I’ve felt in all these centuries has been forcing myself to hold myself back when it comes to you. It hurts… the impossibility of it.”

“Do you want me?” Andy asked, taking Quynh by surprise again with her determination. Her voice was shaking, but she wasn’t giving up. Her hand was trembling there between them, but she was willing to fight for it.

“More than anything else right now,” Quynh replied.

The seconds then didn’t feel like hours or years, they felt like no time at all. The seconds felt like a sweet pause granted just to them to take their time. There was the slightest twitch of Andy’s fingers, there was Quynh’s slow movement of her hand until it hovered right above Andy’s, and then there was the final movement, the most purposeful and carefully hopeful touch yet. Quynh’s hand rested on Andy’s, with a reasonable weight of its own, capable of applying pressure, capable of being cold and feeling the other woman’s warmth, real, even if just for a fleeting moment.


	12. Last Week

The best week that Andy and Quynh could remember ever living started that day, together, and effectively ignoring it, it was also their last week together. That Monday night Quynh cautiously lay down in Andy’s bed with her. Facing each other, with a safe distance between their bodies to avoid the heartache of an unavoidable disappointment when an accidental touch would remind them of Quynh’s only ephemeral ability to trick her stubborn soul that clung to this Earth to once again cross the line into the physical. It was enough, then. It was enough to face each other and relax, to talk without fear or hurry, to brush their fingertips on each other’s palms, and not ask for more.

* * *

Tuesday was even better, because it carried with it its own magic and the ever-growing spark of the previous day. They spent a lot of it in the kitchen, with Andy trying her best at cooking, inspired by her company. Quynh had a lot of questions that day and, although Andy insisted she couldn’t explain things as well as the computer likely could, Quynh simply preferred to listen to her.

She was curious about Andy’s job, and the gun she had brought with her. “It’s not fair, having that much power in someone’s hands,” Quynh concluded with a shudder, done listening about modern weapons and wars.

“When I died, America was still nothing but a rumor, tell me about it,” she smiled at Andy. She smiled, because she enjoyed learning, because she was excited about being able to ask, because she loved watching Andy struggling to explain something. It always started with a frown, like when trying to vaguely explain the geography and politics, and it always ended up with a nostalgic smile, remembering the forests she explored and the special people she met. Quynh couldn’t see the whole world, but she was content with seeing Andy’s world through the spark in her eyes and the melody of her words. She couldn’t tell how big America was, but she had memorized Andy’s description of the best chocolate she ever had, and that was, at the moment, bigger than the foreign continent could amount to.

* * *

It was during Tuesday’s dinner that, stopping Andy’s mid-sentence, Quynh reached out across the table and with a somehow firm hand, brushed the crumbs that had gathered on the corner of Andy’s mouth. She pulled back quickly enough, but slowly, crushing the tiny crumbs between her fingers for an instant before they fell. She kept staring at her fingers in wonder, at the almost forgotten texture. She almost missed Andy’s jaw trembling as she exhaled, not quite recovering from the simple touch.

* * *

Wednesday proved to be a much welcome and enjoyable distraction. Wednesdays meant Nile was working, and Nile working meant Nile’s car parked outside. It took little convincing from Quynh to get Andy to stand in front of the young woman and ask to borrow her car, just to drive it around the property.

“I’m just bored,” Andy shrugged as she shamelessly delivered the lame excuse while Quynh chuckled to herself on the corner and Nile stared at her as if she’d grown another head.

“Are you losing your mind?” the younger woman finally said.

“Yes.”

“Should I worry?”

“Absolutely not,” Andy continued to grin as she took the keys from Nile’s hand and stepped outside with a ghost walking beside her, overjoyed as a little girl.

They were setting themselves up for a lot of disappointment but, whatever laws of the supernatural that had tied Quynh’s soul to that sad place, they had, at least, allowed her to enter a vehicle, and move along with it. At first, it was difficult, Quynh’s presence flickering away, staying behind when the car moved forwards. But, as Andy had discovered with more difficult than easy lessons, when the other woman felt seriously passionate about something, she managed to transcend whatever cursed state she was in, and achieve whatever she genuinely wanted, trying or not. Many times in her life Andy had been called stubborn, but she knew that feeling for what it actually was. She knew it as she stared at Quynh, closed her eyes, breathed, held on to the car, and moved along with it. It was passion, it was determination, it was a desire not many understood.

The reward was priceless. Quynh laughing wholeheartedly, her eyes bright and amazed by the completely new experience, the pride of defeating the odds, and the joy of experiencing a new breath of life after so, so long.

Andy had to agree with Nile, she was losing her mind, for an extremely special woman that with one laugh had brightened Andy’s life. This wasn’t Andy going back to the person she was before the tragedy. This was something entirely new. Life in a new light, in Quynh’s light, and in all her life Andy had never experienced something better.

* * *

Then it was Thursday, which proved to be a slightly more difficult day. It was a day that started to taste like an ending, like every word they said to each other was some kind of opening to start saying goodbye.

They spent most of the day slowly exploring every corner of the building, their hands brushing every now and then. Andy wished with everything she had to touch her, and more often than not she found herself biting her lip to keep herself from asking things she knew she should. She was scared her desire would spill accidentally from her and hurt, against her best intentions, the woman at the center of her biggest wishes. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, but that didn’t keep her longing from spilling. Maybe Quynh could just feel it, maybe it was reciprocated just as fiercely but, in her own terms. Either way, it was Quynh who broke the silence.

“I want to hold your hand,” she said, her voice calm and collected.

“Try it,” Andy replied, stopping their walk down the hallway.

“But it hurts,” Quynh frowned, her emotional walls starting to crumble, “Not physically, but worse. It pains me on a deeper level… when I fail… when I can’t hold you like you wish I could.”

Kindness and authority, words many times used to describe Andy, they were traits that encouraged and reassured, even when she shook her head firmly, as she did. “Don’t do it for me. Just do it if _you_ want to do it,” she said, holding her ground and willing her body and voice not to shake.

“I just want to hold your hand,” Quynh exhaled, no doubt in her tone that she was craving that simple touch just as badly as she once craved a different fate, power, freedom, a second chance.

The hallway felt infinite, as if this moment was all they would ever have, as if all the time in the universe was theirs to take. But, even then, with an eternity behind and ahead of them, there was no time to waste. Quynh couldn’t stand to wait another second. She reached out and grabbed Andy’s hand. She held, for a moment, as tightly as she could. She loosened her hold and focused on feeling. Then she felt, at once, real again and also reduced a single fluttering feeling, as if she could vanish for real if it weren’t for Andy returning the hold.

Andy not only interlocked their fingers, Andy pulled her closer, and Andy stepped forward, dangerously close, and waited. Quynh’s temper sent out warning signs, but it was over as soon as it started. She couldn’t tame all the spikes of attraction and fondness that sparked with Andy’s boldness, her stubbornness, her tenacity. Then there was the waiting, Andy holding her breath, waiting for her to snap, waiting to lose her, but still standing there offering, as she had said, everything she had, if Quynh wanted it.

Slow wasn’t enough anymore. Slow was dangerous and with Andy’s green eyes burning into hers and her own phantom body buzzing with an energy beyond unexplainable, slow was impossible. The hallway was no longer endless, it was closing in on them like time. There was no time to waste on hesitation, questions, or carefulness.

So, Quynh scoffed and showed Andy a clear picture of a woman that five hundred years ago fought with everything she had to survive and live, to bring that feeling to others, and never accepted someone making her decisions for her. Quynh dropped Andy’s hand almost harshly, and threw her arms around her shoulders.

As if Quynh, with all her sudden and unexplainable weight, hadn't already thrown all of herself on Andy’s arms, Andy would have pulled her even closer with perfectly matching eagerness. She wrapped both arms around Quynh’s body, solid and impossible and real, and she held her tightly against her chest. She pressed her face against Quynh’s hair and she struggled to breathe and focused only on holding and holding and holding her tighter. Until there was nothing to hold.

Quynh had vanished, entirely and without meaning to.

Andy fell to her knees. Her arms were shaking, she could hardly breathe, she felt lost and helpless and alone. She started crying.

It would have been a completely sleepless night for Andy, had Quynh not managed to bring herself back again around midnight. She stood in Andy’s room, smiling softly as if nothing had happened, not because she hadn’t been feeling a pain so great she was almost grateful she didn’t have a body that would have to endure it. She was smiling because it was still Thursday night, because she had come back in time to see Andy again, to talk to her again, to make hopeless little promises, dare to wipe the tears off her cheeks and sweetly tease her for them until gorgeous features relaxed and green eyes closed and at least one of them would sleep peacefully until the morning.

* * *

Friday wasn’t exactly easy, but it was good. It was time to say goodbye to Nile Freeman, young historian, wise beyond her years, good humor, great heart, and never satisfied with her haunting experience.

“Before you leave,” Andy said while both of them hesitated on the back door of the building that afternoon, “I almost forgot to tell you that the mirror you couldn’t figure out actually came from America, early nineties.”

“How did you know that?” Nile asked, holding back her joy to squint her eyes at the older woman in that familiar way that suggested she already knew she wouldn’t be content with the answer she received.

“One of the ghosts here told me,” Andy smiled.

“You know what? I’m just gonna accept that,” Nile shook her head and returned the smile. She shifted in place, and played with the strap of her bag. Finally, she said, “Do you know? That you… you changed, while you were here?” She received a humble nod in response. “Okay but… for good, right?”

Andy chuckled, “Yeah, for good.” She was on the verge of not saying anything at all, but decided against her usual behavior. “Some of it was because of you, Nile. So thank you for that.”

The historian scoffed playfully and looked away, but the sentiment wasn’t lost on her, but quite the opposite. “Hey, can we keep in touch?” she blurted out as casually as possible and completely failed at it.

“I’d love that,” Andy said, initiating a hug that she thought was a perfect ending before saying goodbye. Though, of course, it seemed Quynh had a better idea. Nile was still smiling and waving at Andy as she started her car, when she very suddenly frowned. She stared intently at something behind Andy, opened her mouth as if to shout something out the window… then shook her head and simply drove away, trying to convince herself that the silhouette of a woman leaning against the door behind Andy was all in her mind.

That night was really close to perfect, in both women’s opinions. Andy had brought her dinner to bed, and Quynh had sat beside her the entire time, her focus neatly divided into halves between Andy and the soft sheets underneath them that Quynh could touch, as usual, but also _feel_ , like she hadn’t had the chance to feel anything but Andy since her death. The little changes in her condition were confusing, but frightening, most of all, if she let herself think about them. Because hope was the scariest thing she had experienced in five hundred years.

So, she tried not to think about it, and instead gifted herself a long night of shared stories with the most wonderful woman she had ever known.

“You would’ve liked him, Lykon,” Andy sighed. They were both lying down, holding hands, completely content. “He also enjoyed making fun of me, with pranks mostly. Makes me think of a little shit of a ghost that I met recently.”

Quynh laughed softly. Instead of putting into words how happy she was to see Andy go over her memories with a smile instead of a bottle of alcohol, she grinned playfully, “He sounds wonderful. And have I told you about the time somebody that lived here thought that my presence was divine, signs from God, God himself even?”

While they laughed together like they had never laughed with anybody else, they couldn’t even think of the night coming to a close, about the upcoming day, their last one together.

* * *

Saturday should have been difficult, it could have been the worst of days, just twenty-four hours of a painful goodbye. But Quynh wouldn’t allow that. If one month of holding herself back had taught her anything, it was to know when it was time to stop that and, instead, let herself want, and pursue what she wanted, with everything she ever had, and not taking, from life or death, no from an answer.

So, when Andy was ready to go about her day, Quynh showed up behind her, and tapped her shoulder. “I have something to show you,” she whispered it like a secret and took Andy’s hand in hers.

Quynh led them through familiar halls and rooms and to a particular door neither of them was very fond of. But, a deep breath and the feeling of Andy’s hand firmly resting in hers was enough to push her forward. One more time Andy followed Quynh down the stairs and through the long hallway of the dark prison cells of even darkest times. Finally, they arrived at the place Quynh was most familiar with. The gates were opened again, and the sea breeze, along with their giddy, nervous smiles, helped to lighten what was meant to be a grim place.

Once they were there, Quynh let go of Andy’s hand and kneeled down right at the spot where they were sitting the last time. She looked up at Andy with a smile, then at the wall beside her, and tapped her fingers against one of the stones there. 

“What?” Andy frowned.

“Well… can you get it out?” Quynh raised her eyebrow, challenging.

Curious and never one to back down from a challenge, Andy got to work on getting the small stone out from the wall. It was just slightly loose, unlike the rest, but it was still difficult, and it ended up demanding the use of one of Andy’s knives, but eventually, she managed it. They were both sitting there in a medieval prison cell, right in the spot where one of them died, with the open ocean right outside, and all Andy could focus on was the necklace lying there on the hole on the wall the stone left behind. Long seconds passed and, since Quynh was just waiting, Andy reached out and grabbed it. The thread was barely there, but the pendant was in surprisingly good shape.

“Is this yours?” Andy breathlessly wondered, still staring at the necklace resting in the palm of her hand.

“It was, yes,” Quynh nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. There was not a great need for explaining the situation. The only personal possession she kept when she was captured, the only thing she could leave behind before sealing her fate, five centuries protecting the last piece left of her, and now it was safe in Andy’s hand. “I can’t really put it on now. But I would be happy if you did.”

“Quynh,” Andy almost gasped. She stared at the other woman with big eyes and parted lips. It was difficult to wrap her mind around it. This was something that had actually belonged to Quynh, and it made her feel at once the weight of five hundred years and also like they disappeared and there was nothing between them anymore. Her mind was stuck between _I can’t - are you sure? - really?_ but they were unnecessary.

“Please take it, I need you to have it.”

Quynh's voice was as soft as her smile, but there was no denying the tears gathering in her eyes. Tears that should be impossible started to fall down her cheeks, with only Andy’s thumb there to catch them, wipe them away without wondering how, just feeling lucky she was there to catch them at all.

The day, and Quynh’s surprises, were far from over.

Again, she held Andy’s hand and led her through the old building in a different direction. Andy had changed into the best shirt she had packed for her stay there, and her favorite jacket. She was also wearing Quynh’s necklace, hanging from a new thread that secured it around Andy’s neck to never be lost.

Andy’s questions and Quynh’s teasing and the gentle swaying of their interlocked hands all came to a sudden stop when they entered the foyer that gave way to the great hall, locked and prohibited, unknown and mysterious and, very suddenly, opened up for them. Andy didn’t have the keys for it, not even Nile had been allowed to step inside, and there it was, the biggest, most elegant, and well-preserved room of the building, with all the splendor of centuries long gone.

Many “how”s and “why”s swirled in Andy’s mind, just to be dismissed by the feeling of Quynh tugging at her hand, pulling her into the magnificent room of tall walls and gold and glory.

“Come on, I want to dance with you, and a dance deserves a beautiful room to dance in,” Quynh smiled. She had even brought Andy’s impulsively purchased laptop with her, and after a moment of fumbling with it, Andy miraculously managed to give them the soft company of music. “That’s magical,” Quynh sighed, hearing the music around them, feeling Andy’s hands, one on her own hand, one on her waist, pulling her close, and starting to dance slowly.

“That’s nothing compared to… all this. This room, you, you in this room,” Andy exhaled a marveled chuckle, her eyes traveled to the opulent room in which they found themselves, but inevitably they returned to the biggest treasure of all, to Quynh’s eyes.

The dancing continued for a long while, including sweet laughter and sweeter compliments. There was a shared feeling between them, the feeling of a perfect moment, a moment that made it feel like their entire lives were leading up to it, like this is what their lives were always meant to be, that soft moment of Quynh twirling and Andy catching her and everything feeling right, and real.

Conversation flowed easily, coming and going the entire time, until one moment that would change it all.

“How is this one room still so beautiful?” Andy wondered, glancing around them once more, “Is it a dream?”

Quynh shrugged, “I’ve kept it safe, for myself.” She had enjoyed it, having a secret to keep and protect, but all things must come to an end, she hoped. “You will take a picture of it, give it to Nile, it might be able to save the building. And who knows, maybe that means I will see you again someday.”

And that was it. That was the sentence that brought it all to the grand finale of a month that defied life, death, love, and nature.

Andy didn’t think twice, not after four weeks of thinking too hard about every move. Her hands pulled Quynh closer, she stepped even closer, their bodies were flushed together and there was no denying how real they both were in that moment, no fighting it either. 

“Please let me try…” she whispered, almost begging, “Please, Quynh, kiss me.”

Quynh didn’t wait, not after five hundred years, after living and dying and waiting and finally, finally, getting to kiss the woman she loved. She kissed her passionately because she could, but mostly because she wanted, and also because Andy returned that fervor in equal measures and it made Quynh feel something much greater than life ever felt.

“I have to say something,” Andy mumbled against Quynh’s lips. She held her laughter when the woman in her arms pouted as she pulled away, but she couldn’t go another second without saying it, obvious as it was, the words deserved a moment of their own to be said out loud. “I love you,” Andy said, her entire heart going in those words.

“Oh, Andromache,” Quynh held her closer, still surprised that she could, but not surprised by the truest words she would speak, “I love you too.”

They started crying, sooner rather than later, because it was inevitable. And they had to pull back from the kiss, because they were smiling too big, and they needed to see each other’s eyes again, needed the reassurance that this was real. No time to question who was alive and who was dying and who was leaving and who was returning. There was only the next kiss, and the other after that, and all the kisses they shared all the way to Andy’s bedroom. With every step, Quynh was touching, kissing, biting, tasting Andy and life like she had never done before. Their laughs filled the hallways and their love took over the place of the centuries that had weighted down the building.

By the time they finally stood by the foot of the bed, Quynh was gripping Andy’s shirt as if she wanted to tear it with her hands. “I can’t believe I can… You’re so _real_ ,” Quynh mumbled and marveled between the kisses.

“Let me help you,” Andy sighed, noticing the way Quynh’s fingers trembled while trying to unbutton her shirt. As they worked together, with Quynh exploring and touching and feeling again after so long, Andy had to ask, “Are you sure?” There were more questions but, as she had grown used to, Quynh was one step ahead.

“I dreamt this moment since the first day I saw you,” she whispered, before ducking her head to kiss Andy’s neck.

In between the overwhelming physical and emotional sensations, Andy had managed to notice Quynh’s blush, like her tears, impossible but real, like the entire body currently trembling in her arms.

“I can’t,” Quynh pulled back for a moment, hands on her own dress, “I never could… I tried to take this off so many times but I… it was impossible and I… I just want it off.”

An eternity stuck in the cursed dress on which she was sentenced to death by ignorant men and her own hand, and it was all disappearing with inch by inch of her free and beautiful body that Andy revealed with all the love and care in the world as she helped her take off the dress.

Then it was time to start the journey of their last night together, a journey through both their bodies, more real than anything they had previously known, a journey defined by love, care, happiness, and wonder, accompanied by laughter and occasional tears and a journey, all things considered, nothing short of perfect.

Andy had been determined not to fall asleep, not to let go or lose sight of Quynh the entire night. When she woke up with a start in the middle of the night she almost cried in joy as she realized that they were still in bed together and, in fact, Quynh was holding her in her arms. It could have been barely a minute and still, it would have been the best sleep of her life. Her favorite part was undoubtedly the soft beating drum of Quynh’s heartbeat, that impossible and unexplainable and untamable heart that had chosen Andy somehow, making her feel the luckiest woman on Earth.

“We have to say goodbye,” Quynh whispered, when she felt Andy was awake again.

In response, Andy turned around quickly to face Quynh and hold her just as tightly. “I don’t think- I don’t know how I could,” Andy cleared her throat, getting lost in precious brown eyes, “I don’t know how I could leave, how I would be expected to live on, away from you, knowing you’re still here, knowing you-”

“You _will_ ,” Quynh interrupted her, “You will do that, and you will do it with a smile, Andromache. Because you made my life and my afterlife, so worth it.”

“Don’t make me leave,” Andy begged, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes despite her fear that the woman she loved wouldn’t be there when she opened them again. Quynh took advantage of the moment to lean in, leave a feather-light kiss on Andy’s lips, and move to kiss her jaw, her cheek, forehead, until she was certain her lover had relaxed. Sighing, Andy opened her eyes and met Quynh’s loving yet firm stare. “What will happen tomorrow?” she asked.

“Tomorrow…” Quynh spoke as she trailed her fingertips over Andy’s collarbone, “Tomorrow will be best if you can’t see me. Tomorrow you will wake up and you will pack your things. You will leave, and you won’t look back at this humble prison that could hold you down to this land forever if you let it. You will live your life as well as you can, and you will be the woman that I fell in love with, not the dark shadow of her that I first met.”

“But I will come back someday,” Andy said, barely above a whisper.

“Someday, yes,” Quynh smiled, even though she could tell Andy noticed her smile wasn’t genuine, in more ways than one. Andy was seeing a smile that said she didn’t believe she would come back. Yet Quynh was smiling because she was certain of Andy’s heart and her stubbornness and she had no doubt that, at some point, the soldier would come back to the isolated building by the sea. And then there was the last layer of the sad smile, of the secret wish Quynh had of Andy to never return, to forget about her and find a life so good and deserving of her blazing spirit that she’d never return.

Andy’s voice broke the silence again. “Do you think we could try-?”

Her question was interrupted by Quynh, not so gently this time. As real as she felt and as solid as Andy could feel her in that moment, Quynh could feel it wouldn’t last. “No, we can’t,” she shook her head, “My time spent with you has been my favorite part of my life and beyond. I don’t want to taint this perfect night with a hopeless attempt.”

She wanted it though. Of course she wished she could try. She wished she could hold Andy’s hand and walk out of the building and walk along the shore and cross continents and oceans and never look back and never again feel the pressure of her place of death calling her name. She wished she could answer yes, I’m here, yes, I’m real, yes, Andromache, I will stay and move and be free by your side. But she _couldn’t_. And there was love in her decision to save both of them the pain of failing.

“Goodbye, my heart,” Quynh kissed Andy one more time.

“Goodbye,” Andy kissed her one last time.


	13. Stories

A small church, a cursed prison. A humble home, a lavish home. A place of cruelty, of business, of entertainment. Home of the damned, of broken and growing families, of working and wandering people. A collection of abandoned rooms that were witnesses of true love blossoming within its walls. And, finally, a brand new museum. 

The old English building by the shore had, like its oldest inhabitant, defied death. Nile Freeman’s work proved that the place, strange as it was, carried a rich enough history to be worth saving. Although the building was saved, the plans for a hotel weren’t completely forgotten. In fact, it was starting construction nearby, including with it some improvements to the roads that connected the area with neighboring towns. With enough money supporting the project, Nile was assigned as one of the leaders in bringing it back to life and into a remarkable museum. Some of the rooms were studied and worked on until they were rebuilt as close to their original style as possible. Other rooms were transformed into galleries that hosted the best pieces found in the building and the area. And then there was the great hall that had been kept a secret for so long, and now was the heart of the party of the inauguration of the museum, including a considerable crowd, food, drinks, lights, and a stage from which an ambitious, caring and brilliant historian was finishing her speech.

“Eventually, it became obvious that these rooms weren’t unintentional storage for traces of our history. This place, let’s say, had a life of its own. I’m sure most of you, by now, have heard the ghost stories, just as I am sure that most of you haven’t heard the rest. The drama, the comedy, the crimes, the mysteries and, obviously, the love stories. My job was to put together these stories, these pieces of history, touched by hundreds of years and hundreds of souls, carried to this unexpected place. And you, all of you, your job, if you’ll be so kind to take it, will be to keep this place and all its stories… _alive_.”

The room was filled with applause and the camera flashes were almost as bright as Nile’s smile. She shook hands with her boss and welcomed him to the stage. As he took his place, she walked down the steps and embraced her closest friends and colleagues that had accompanied her on this journey. But, she’d have time to talk with them later. There was a special person in the crowd that stood out from the rest and that Nile had missed dearly.

“Andy!” she greeted with a hug, and accepted the champagne offered to her, “You came!”

“Of course! I’d never miss your big day. I imagine this is like a movie premier for history nerds.”

“Yeah, I-'' she was interrupted by thunderous applause. Everyone had moved even closer to the stage to listen and enthusiastically cheer for the man onstage, before he was attacked with endless questions about the entire project. Just one look at Andy told Nile everything the older woman thought about the situation. “I know, I know. _You_ saw me here doing most of the hard work alone. But listen, Joe’s not a bad guy. If anything, blame the people around here that assume any man on sight is implicitly the boss and more worthy of attention and respect. It’s their loss.”

“Right…” Andy, for the sake of civility, kept her real opinions to herself. Instead, she took a good look around the room, “Anyway, this place looks incredible. You really did an amazing job, kid. It feels… surreal.”

“Well… I don’t know if this helps with that feeling or makes it worse but, come on, follow me.”

The two women ran away from the crowd, through a couple of strangely familiar rooms, hallways, and a set of stairs until they reached their destination. “Holy shit,” Andy gave an impressed chuckle as she took in the mostly intact little kitchen where she spent so much of her time while she lived in the building six months ago.

“I know right!” the younger woman agreed and walked straight toward the fridge and opened it, “Also, I brought something…”

Andy couldn’t help but throw her head back laughing as she watched Nile pull a bottle of vodka for them. They must have looked incredibly out of place, in their elegant dress and suit in that very simple kitchen, but they felt strangely at home there. 

Before handing Andy her glass, Nile stopped and playfully squinted her eyes at her, “Hold on. Did you keep your promise?”

With the drinks already served, Andy doubted Nile would actually refuse to share it but, still, it got Andy thinking.

Getting her life together, easier said than done, that was for sure. It was a big promise, something she had promised to Nile, to herself, and to the love of her life. She had thought, at first, that it would be completely impossible and she’d fall back into her most dangerous bad habits until they took over her life entirely. She had been carrying the grief of lost friends still, and the additional pain of heartache, a new wound that she was sure would never heal.

But, to her own surprise, she found herself trying even harder and, slowly but surely, succeeding. Talking about it had helped, of course. Honoring her team, their valor, and their time together. She talked of Lykon the most, who had lived every day as if it had been the last and wouldn’t have ever let her waste a moment of her life in being a shadow of the leader with the heart on fire that he knew her to be. She started therapy, a few times, really, because she could try but she still struggled with many things.

There was one name, one story, that she hadn’t been able to share with anybody. But she carried her and their time together in her heart forever. In every meal, she took her time to appreciate the distinct tastes of everything she ate, in every song she remembered delight and slow dancing together, and every time she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw the necklace.

“I did,” Andy nodded, putting on a brave smile and taking the glass from the other woman.

The conversation picked up then. If it was true that Andy had gotten her life together, Nile demanded to know everything about it. Andy told her about traveling new places, letting herself rest, eating healthier, taking her time to enjoy and learn life beyond what used to be her work. She didn’t mention the way she carried the thought of one woman with her everywhere she went, and how she missed her from sunrise to sunset and in every bed she slept. But it had been good, good enough, a good life, so she nodded confidently as she told her story.

“Did you get everything you wanted?” Nile asked, a little too casually for the magnitude of the question, but at that point in the night she was stepping into the threshold of tipsy.

“Almost. Just missing one thing,” Andy replied honestly and tried smiling at the confused frown on Nile’s face but, glancing at the empty corners of the room represented a pain too big. “Just missing the one thing I wanted most,” she sighed with finality.

At that moment, Nile had questions, Andy had excuses to leave, and the party upstairs demanded they return, but life had other plans. In a move so slow yet purposeful that would have sent anybody else running, one of the doors opened. It leads downstairs to the old prison cells.

Andy jumped out of her seat, feeling her heart stop for a second. Nile had simply started to cough, confused, a little scared, a little drunk.

“Wait here,” Andy instructed, already crossing the door and walking down the steps.

It felt all too familiar. The anticipation was too much. She thought that if it ended up being that the door had genuinely opened accidentally she would break down beyond healing this time. But when she reached the end of the steps and watched light at the end of the hallway she knew this was real. The gates of the last cell were open and the light of the setting sun was filling the place. Andy was struggling to breathe and trying her hardest not to just start running. But she finally reached the open door and when the first thing she saw was a shadow on the ground she knew this wasn’t a familiar situation. This was new, extraordinary, impossible, and, when she looked up to meet Quynh’s eyes, she knew it was real.

Quynh was there, casting a shadow, shaking because she felt cold, breathing irregularly, with actual tears in her eyes, with a cut on her bare feet bleeding, with a hand on her chest feeling her own heart beating. Quynh was there, impossibly real, incredibly alive, just, undeniably _there_.

“Andromache,” she said, and interrupted herself with a gasp of surprise at hearing her own voice, loud, trembling but still there. She took one step forward and flinched. It was overwhelming, all the sensations in her body coming at her all at once. Still, nothing compared to the feelings in her heart at the sight of the woman she loved, shocked and silent, more surprised at seeing her alive than she ever was at seeing her as a ghost. “I’m alive,” Quynh whispered, a question, a statement, and a reassurance at the same time.

“You’re alive,” Andy nodded once, forgetting all about the “ _ you can’t be” _ and “ _ you shouldn’t be” _ , “You’re alive,” she repeated, taking a step forward, followed by another step and extending her arm, offering a cautious hand.

Quynh hesitated, fearing they had done nothing but go back in time, but when her hand finally touched Andy they both immediately started crying. It was real, she was _real_. Andy moved her hand to close her fingers around Quynh’s wrist, feeling her heartbeat there, and letting out a small laugh of absolute joy. She tugged her forward just a little, just to shake them both from their stunned state, and it was more than enough.

An instant later Quynh was throwing herself in Andy’s arms. There were no doubts left. They wrapped their arms around each other and they held on tightly. The fear of one of them or even both vanishing into thin air decreasing with each passing second spent holding each other. They felt more and more safe, more and more secure, more and more in love.

When Quynh stopped gasping for air, when she stopped being overwhelmed beyond control by her senses being invaded with the love of her life, she pulled back from the embrace. Just enough to rest her forehead against Andy’s and take a deep breath, just enough to open her eyes and take in the gorgeous green eyes that stole her supposedly dead heart all those months ago just to bring her back to life.

While they took their time just staring at each other, Andy’s mind was racing. She wasn’t looking for explanations or reason or logic. An unexplainable, unreasonable, illogical miracle sounded good enough if it was in the name of love. She was thinking of the future, of personally introducing Quynh to the world and all the marvelous things of it. She was thinking of how convenient it was that she had worked with people that had given her different identities for her job, now that she needed to create a legal identity for a woman that came back to life from centuries ago. She was thinking of the end of loneliness, she was thinking this was fair and right, and she was thinking of second chances.

“You get another chance,” Andy whispered softly, one of her hands softly meeting Quynh’s cheeks, and she felt her heart flutter in her chest because the touch was new and perfect and the other woman leaned into it.

“ _We_ get another chance, Andromache,” Quynh didn’t hesitate to reply, and finally the smile that Andy had fallen in love with was taking place in Quynh’s face as she continued, “I want you with me on every step I take into this new life, if you-”

“Yes,” Andy nodded, chuckling lightly, ready to promise her life and whatever came after to this woman, “I’m yours. I’ll stay with you, for as long as you want me.”

It was Quynh’s turn to affectionately laugh and shake her head. She had just one more thing to say before she kissed Andy, because she wanted to do it more than anything, because she needed it to make sure this was definitely real, because it would be the best and the first kiss of many more to come, and because it would seal the promise that she was about to make. “My heart,” she said, “I waited five hundred years for you. If it’s up to me, it’ll be just you and me, until the end.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so so much for reading!!
> 
> Comments would mean a lot!!
> 
> I loved writing this story, I put a lot of effort on it and I think it's definitely one of my favorite things I've written and shared here
> 
> Don't forget to check out [this really cool edit](https://www.aimmyarrowshigh.com/post/641785427644301312) made by the awesome @aimmyarrowshigh on tumblr
> 
> I'm on tumblr @daniwouldnever always ready to cry about the immortal wives


End file.
